


Supernatural: Endgame

by bananas_wtf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Language, No Smut, Season 10 AU, Violence, my own version of Season 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-10 19:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 31,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3300557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bananas_wtf/pseuds/bananas_wtf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This picks up pretty much where the actual Season 10 does, with Sam looking for Dean after he disappeared. Once reunited, the boys set off on a journey to once again save humanity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sam opened his eyes, blinking in the soft light of the lamp next to his bed. He stared at the ceiling, willing the throbbing pain in his temples to, if not disappear completely, lessen slightly so he could at least move without his insides threatening to become his outsides. A glance to his left, at the mostly empty bottle of whiskey on the bedside table, and he thought to himself “Touché”. 

Scrubbing a hand down his face, he yawned, returning his thoughts to his Problem Du Jour: Dean. Or rather, the lack of Dean. He’d been searching for weeks, hounding every last contact he had in an attempt to track down his wayward older brother. He’d scoured the internet for any possible pre-existing case of Dead-Brother-Apparently-Gets-Up-And-Walks-Off and had come up empty handed, unless you counted the half a dozen dipped-in-crazy conspiracy sites he had come across. Sam didn’t. 

He crawled his way out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen, intent on caffeine before he began anew this morning. As he waited for the drips to stop, he thought about calling Cas. Not that he had been an ocean of help as of late. The slowly fading Grace he had stolen was, well, slowly fading. Castiel’s own problems were the angel’s top priority but Sam knew, if push came to shove, Cas would drop everything if he simply asked. 

He grabbed his phone, scrolling through the contacts until “Cas” was illuminated. His thumb caressed the “call” button, and he was just about to press it when the coffee machine stuttered to a stop. He sighed, shoving his phone into his pocket, and headed into the library with his coffee. 

******

Two hours later, Sam was buzzing from a third cup of coffee on an empty stomach, and up to his elbows in getting absolutely nowhere. He was contemplating hunting down yet another demon to interrogate when his phone lit up. He grabbed it, saw the name “Crowley”, and entertained the idea of tossing the cell into the nearest toilet and flushing it with glee. 

“I’m probably going to regret this,” he murmured, “but what the hell. Hello?”

“Moose. Just the man I was….”

“Clearly, dumbass, you CALLED me, you GOT me. What do you want? I have a severe lack of time for your shit right now.”

“Touchy, touchy. And from what I hear these days, the only thing you’re lacking is one smug, pretentious, overbearing, whiny piss-ant of a brother.”

“Crowley,” Sam growled. “Get. To. The. Point.”

A sigh crackled over the line.

“I’m hanging up now, Crowley.”

“Alright, alright…It’s about your brother.”

“Why am I not surprised? Crowley if you’ve done something to him I swear to God I’ll…”

“Oh don’t get your knickers in a twist. I haven’t done anything to him. But he’s…”

Sam took a deep breath, closed his eyes and counted to three. 

“Crowley if you don’t get to the fucking POINT…”

“I’ve got him.”

There was a beat of silence.

“What do you mean you’ve ‘got him’?”

Another beat. 

“I mean, he’s here, and he’s driving me crazy. I can’t take it anymore, just…come get him for fucks sake.”

“You’ve….got him,” Sam repeated.

“YES, he’s here, he’s on my LAST nerve, and if you could just…”

“For how long?” Sam spat out. “When did you find him? WHERE did you find him?”

“Well…I mean, time is a relative thing,” Crowley began.

Sam shook his head, rapidly losing what little patience he’d had with this conversation to begin with, when a thought wormed its way into his brain. His eyes widened, and he cut off Crowley’s rant about the passage of time mid-sentence.

“You’ve had him this entire time. He’s been there, with you, since this whole fiasco started.”

Silence.

“HASN’T HE??” Sam shouted.

Crowley sighed again. “It’s complicated, Moose.”

“When I contacted you three months ago, you told me you hadn’t seen him. You hadn’t heard a peep about Dean Winchester. I believe those were your exact words there? ‘Not a peep’? And now you’re telling me that entire time he was WITH you? You knew EXACTLY where he was, and you straight out lied to my face?” 

Crowley laughed with a snort. “Yeah, hello, KING OF HELL, have we met?”

Sam was seething, but curiosity started to bubble up over the anger. Why would Crowley, the aforementioned “King of Hell”, need Sam to come and remove Dean from his presence? Why not just release him, send him on his merry way back to the bunker? If he was getting on his nerves so damned bad, why not just…

“So do we have a deal or not?” 

Was it just Sam, or did Crowley actually sound desperate?

“A deal?” Sam asked. “If I come get Dean, what are YOU getting in return?”

“You get your dear older brother, and I get my nice quiet life filled with days of blood and torture all to myself. We part happy and go our separate ways. No harm, no foul, no questions asked.”

“Yeah, and why do I feel like there’s a rather important part of this whole situation I’m not being let in on?”

“I don’t know what you could possibly be talking about,” Crowley scoffed.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe I’m a bit confused on the part where Dean is just willingly hanging out with demons? And apparently doesn’t want to come home? So much so that the King of Hell has to call me to come GET him and physically drag him away?” 

“Your sarcasm is not appreciated. Do you want your brother or not? I’ve got other ways to…dispose of him, but I figured…”

“You figured this way, I’d owe you a favor?” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Deal. Or. Not. I’ve got things to do that don’t involve Winchesters, you know.”

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. 

“I knew I was gonna regret this,” he mumbled. “Where are you?”

Crowley spouted off an address, and Sam jotted it down on the nearest scrap of paper.

“Oh, and Moose?”

“What now?” Sam closed his eyes again, imaging just how much he was going to strangle the bastard when he finally had his brother back.

“You still hanging on to those demon trap shackles I’m so…familiar…with?” Crowley purred.

“Yeah, they’re around.”

“You may want to bring those darlings with you,” he replied, and promptly hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you like it, please let me know. It's my first fic that I've ever written, so I'm not sure if it's any good haha. Comments are more than welcome!!


	2. Chapter 2

The dive was dark, empty save for a haggard old man at the end of the bar, drunk beyond a level socially acceptable at 1 in the afternoon. There was a jukebox against the far wall which, judging by the thickness of the dust across the glass dome, hadn’t spun a tune in at least a decade. The pool table sat unused in the center of the room, the cues racked, hanging on the wall next to a window which appeared to be held together with duct tape and a prayer. 

Not that Dean minded the silence. These days he often preferred the peace and quiet, at least in his time alone. His box of cassettes was stashed under the seat of the Impala, in direct competition with the local jukebox for Dust Capitol of the Midwest. No, the quiet was good, the quiet kept him grounded, kept him from…He huffed a half-hearted laugh to himself and shook off the self-therapy he so loathed. 

Dean slouched further into the shadows of his booth, leisurely swirling a glass of bourbon, shooting surreptitious side-eyed glances at the door. He was paranoid. For the past three months, life with his new BFF had been great. The drinking, the gambling, the women, hell even the things he couldn’t remember, all Grade-A, top notch. Except for the last two weeks, during which Crowley had grown increasingly annoyed every time Dean pitched an adventure his way. He was too busy, had far too many things to do, “a whole bloody kingdom to run”. 

“Lighten up, you afraid that hell’s just gonna…go all to hell?” Dean had laughed.

Crowley had slammed his fist on the table, his face reddening.

“I can’t have demons running amok, doing as they please!” he shouted. “There has to be ORDER!”

“Yeah, okay, why don’t you just give some orders then, and we can…”

Crowley had sighed, drumming his fingers absently. 

“I believe it’s time we cut the apron strings. Mummy’s done with playtime, Dean, there’s work to be done, and if I don’t do it, well…someone else will swoop in with their grubby little demon claws and take it. Find someone else to entertain you, there’s no shortage of enterprising people at my disposal, surely one of them…” He stopped as he caught the clench in Dean’s jaw. A smirk of understanding crept across his face, his eyes dancing with sadistic delight.

“Oh but that’s just it, isn’t it?” He laughed. “No one wants to play ball with a Winchester? Poor little hunter, all alone in a brave new world.”

“Ex-hunter,” Dean growled, not meeting Crowley’s eyes.

“Sore subject?”

“Look Crowley, you’re the one who dragged me into this shitshow, why should I…”

“Me?? ME???? Look who went and got all cosmically inked up and then couldn’t take it!”

Dean stared at him in disbelief. “Don’t lay that on me. You knew where this path lead, you knew what was going to happen, and you chose to leave me out of that particular loop. It’s hardly my fault. I just…I need…” 

“To destroy?” Crowley asked quietly, no longer mocking. 

Dean stared at the ground.

“I get it, I do. It’s the mark. It’s what it does.”

“Then why aren’t we out there fucking shit up???” Dean demanded. “God, Crowley, you play at being the ‘big bad’, but when it all boils down, you’re nothing. A god damned sheep in wolf’s clothing. Chaos is what this is all about, and you preach about needing order?? ‘Playtime is over’??? Maybe playtime is due. Maybe all your minions running amok is exactly what Hell needs.”

Crowley gaped at him.

“Hell, maybe…maybe that ‘regime change’ wasn’t too far off from what Hell needs.”

Crowley’s head had dropped to the table at that, and he’d mumbled something Dean couldn’t quite make out.

“’M sorry, what was that? I’m not all that fluent in Bitch,” he’d snarked.

“I said…Don’t. Make me. Call. Your brother. You insufferable PRAT!”

That was three days ago, and since yesterday morning, Crowley was being an even bigger pain in the ass than usual, in that he wasn’t being a pain in the ass at all. No, he was downright invisible. Which could only mean one thing. Dean glanced up as the door creaked open, and took a long swallow from his glass as that one thing ambled in the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Comments are welcome!


	3. Chapter 3

An epic showdown it was not. Sam hung near the door, guardedly watching as Dean lowered his head, staring at him. It was like coming across a deer in the forest: no sudden movements or he’d frighten it away. He casually glanced at the ground near his feet, shuffling a bit. Even with the slight motion he could see Dean tense further, sliding just the tiniest bit closer to the edge of the booth. Sam gave his brother a quick once-over. He had arrived in Jamestown, North Dakota expecting to find the same Dean he had grown used to over the last few years: guilt-ridden, exhausted, worn down. The Dean he was currently looking at didn’t really seem to fit that description. He looked…well, happy wasn’t exactly the right word, but he sure as hell didn’t look like he’d lost any sleep over his life decisions recently. 

Sam took a deep breath, and quietly said, “I’ve been looking everywhere.” It didn’t escape Dean that his voice cracked a touch at the end. “Everywhere, Dean.”

Dean picked up his glass, tipped it towards Sam in a mock salute. “Well congratulations,” he offered. “You found me.”

Sam watched as he downed the rest of his drink, thinking “well at least THAT hasn’t changed.” He chewed his lip, trying to decide if a conversation was going to be the best way to get this done, or if a more…physical approach was going to be necessary. He was still contemplating his options when Dean spoke again.

“Why…exactly…are you here, Sammy?” He slowly uncurled out of the booth, his eyes narrowing, and meandered to the shelf where the pool cues were slotted into their frames. He selected one, inspecting it as he continued. “You stopping in just to say ‘hello’? Have a little family reunion? ‘Cause, I gotta say little brother, I’m not exactly up for bonding right now.” 

As he spoke, he slowly wandered towards Sam and the door, still examining the cue in his hands. He slinked along next to the bar stools with an odd sort of grace that Sam found more than a bit disconcerting. 

“Dean, look…why don’t you just come home, you can take a day or two, get sorted, and then maybe we can talk about this.”

Dean smirked slightly, now almost even to where Sam stood. “Talk abooooout...what?”

Sam took another breath before he spoke, trying to remain calm as Dean disappeared behind him. “You know ‘about what’, Dean. Maybe about how you died? And then just, oh, I don’t know, magically disappeared??”

Dean laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, Sammy…you know what? Yeah. Yeah, let’s talk.”

With a quickness Sam would have found impressive in another situation, Dean wound up with the pool cue and shattered it against the back of Sam’s knees. His legs buckled, and he hit the floor hard with a sharp grunt of pain. He grit his teeth, pushing his hands under him, and tried to get up. His legs were on fire, and they were seriously protesting motion at the moment. 

Dean watched his brother, tossing aside the remains of the stick in his hands, and set his jaw. 

“How’s this, Sam? How’s THIS for a chat?” he snarled, grabbing Sam by the back of his neck. “Are you getting the answers you were looking for???”

Sam looked up at him, his face screwed up in agony, “Dean…”

Dean smiled, a small, cold upturn of the corners of his mouth, blinked his eyes into inky demon black, and smashed Sam’s face into the floor. 

*****

Sam woke up with a groan. His legs had gone a weird sort of numb, and he could taste blood. He was pretty sure his nose was broken, if his inability to breathe through it were any indication. He tried to move, but there was something heavy against his back, keeping him pinned. He shifted slightly, and something jabbed him in the back of the head.

“Dean…” he mumbled. “Are you…are you fucking sitting on me?”

“Uh, yeah?” came the chuckled response. “I’m still me, dude.”

Sam scoffed at that, distinctly remembering a demon showing its ugly face (well, eyes) to him just before introducing his nose to his brain.

“Yeah, right. Just tell me who you are, and what the hell you want with my brother.”

Dean sighed, nodding to the old man who was still quietly perched at the end of the bar. “Hey Stu, you wanna toss me the, uh, good stuff?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

Sam looked on in confusion as Stu reached over the bar, grabbed a blue jug with a crudely drawn skull and crossbones on it, and carefully poured a small glass. He shuffled closer to hand it to Dean, who raised it like a toast, and drank it down. 

“What’s that supposed to prove?” Sam asked. “That you were thirsty? Who are you?”

Dean rolled his eyes, reaching down and slipping his hand inside Sam’s jacket, searching for the flask he knew he’d find. He pulled it out and, raising his eyebrows pointedly in Sam’s direction, unscrewed the cap and took a swig.

Sam stared in confusion. He was certain he’d seen Dean’s eyes go black, and he knew damn well that the water in that flask was blessed to High Heaven. So how…

“’M not possessed by a demon, Sammy,” Dean stated softly, almost a whisper. “I am one.”

The fact that his brain was struggling to process that information showed plainly on Sam’s broken face. Disbelief, confusion, and finally horror floated across his features as he lay completely still under the weight of (and he was only partially certain this was true) his brother. This was a factor he hadn’t considered, even in his worst nightmares of what could have happened to Dean. Sure, possession had crossed his mind, shifters even. But actually becoming a demon? No, this was something Sam hadn’t even been sure was possible.

Dean recapped the flask and set it on the floor next to them, standing as he did so, relieving the pressure from Sam’s back. As the younger shifted to lift himself from the floor, he was surprised to see a hand extended to him. He glanced up at Dean, whose hand was held out, no readable expression on his face. The shock of the gesture must be reading on his own, though, because Dean huffed a breath with a small laugh.

“Dean. Really?”

“Don’t want my help, fine then,” Dean shrugged.

Sam furrowed his brow as he took his brothers hand. “Your help?? You just beat the crap out of me!”

“You’ve been kind of a whiny bitch lately, I just figured it was due.”

Dean let go of him, and watched as he gingerly tested whether or not his aching legs would hold his body. Sam bent over at the waist, hanging his head down and resting his hands on his thighs. 

“Well…I guess you could consider us even, because I’m pretty sure you’re about to become the whiny bitch,” Sam declared, shooting his hand out and snapping one of the demon trap shackles around Dean’s wrist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are welcome!


	4. Chapter 4

Half an hour into the nine hour drive back to the bunker, Sam was rethinking his decision to not stow Dean in the trunk of the Impala. When he wasn’t bitching about his “Dean-napping”, he was shoving his knees and feet into Sam’s spine via the back of the front seat. Which was really quite a feat, since Sam had shackled Dean directly to the handle of the rear passenger-side door. 

Shoulda gone with the OUTSIDE handle, he thought to himself as he shifted uncomfortably against the foot that was currently lodged into his back. 

Not that getting him into the backseat had been any easier than shoving him in the trunk would have been. It had taken Sam the better part of 40 minutes to cram his brother through the door, while Crowley stood by, idly watching with his hands in his pockets. Even with both hands secured, Dean had managed to put up quite the fight, spreading himself across the entire opening, all the while shouting and cursing at Crowley about what a upstanding person he wasn’t. Sam had used every ounce of energy he had (with two currently enraged knees) in an attempt to push the older Winchester far enough to at least get the door shut (and if that door happened to shut on said older Winchester’s foot or leg or arm in the process? Well that would just be a karmically happy accident).

Three hours later, well after night had fallen (and about twenty minutes after Dean had finally calmed down and stopped his grumbling), Sam spotted a car wash. It was sketchy, at best, and in the middle of nowhere; one of those do-it-yourself numbers, which made it perfect. Sam didn’t announce the stop, just slowed down and pulled in. He drove around to the back and stopped next to a vacuum behind the building. Dean looked around, a bemused expression on his face.

“A little secluded for a first date, Sammy, don’t ya think?” 

“Ok, first of all? What the hell kind of dates have you been going on? And second, I just want to clean up this mess a bit,” he said, gesturing at the interior of the car. “Honestly, Dean. I can’t believe this is your Baby. I mean, there’s so much dust on the dash I can hardly see car.”

Dean stared glumly out his window, fidgeting, as Sam unfolded his legs from the car. “My car…can leave it a mess if I so fuckin’ choose to…asshat,” he mumbled. 

Sam showed no sign that he had heard him, and set to work cleaning the front area of the Impala. The back could just stay filthy, at least until they had reached the bunker and Dean was safely tucked away. Be that in his bedroom or the dungeon, Sam wasn’t quite sure yet. He had a feeling that, for the time being at least, it was going to be the latter. 

Dean slid his legs back over to his side of the car, pulling himself upright for the first time in hours. He groaned inwardly at the way his muscles protested after being in one position for too long, and tried to flex his legs to find a more comfortable spot. His foot knocked into something, stopping it from stretching out as far as he wanted. He looked down at the floor and saw the corner of a box sticking out from under the front seat. Without pulling it out, he knew what was inside: his cassettes. Part of him from before that his current self wanted nothing to do with. He closed his eyes, damping down the grief that occasionally threatened to overtake him when he thought too hard about what he had become. He didn’t want to be a demon, he certainly had never asked for it. He didn’t want to feel this insatiable need to harm, to ruin, bring controlled chaos to the lives of the people he met. But that was the hand he had been dealt, and damn if it wasn’t a difficult thing to deny. 

He pulled himself from his reverie, watching as Sam threw out the last bit of trash from the floor of the front of the car and pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket to answer it. Dean pressed his head closer to the window, hoping to at least catch some of what was being said, and maybe some of Sam’s plan. 

“If he’s even got one,” he murmured to himself, then quieted to listen.

“Hey Cas….Yeah, I found him, I’m bringing him to the bunker….Ummm….No, no I think he’s alright.....I mean, he’s definitely not dead, but he’s not….I think you just need to see it to believe it….Yeah, another few hours…..Alright, see you then.”

“Like I thought. No plan,” Dean rolled his eyes, closed them, and leaned his head back to rest it against the seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are welcome!


	5. Chapter 5

Cas looked worried. He chewed on his bottom lip, brow furrowed, as he stood just outside the storage room door that led to the bunker’s dungeon. The sounds of two brothers with very different ideas about how this situation was going to go drifted out to him. He had been slightly amused, and a bit confused, if he was being honest, when he had arrived at the bunker to find Sam and Dean in what appeared to be an all-out brawl. He had simply stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching the two them scuffling about on the floor, a half-smile flitting across his face at the sight of them finally back together. That is, until he had seen the state of Sam’s face. So he had joined in the fray, and between the two of them, they had managed to subdue Dean enough to drag him (quite literally, as he went completely limp in an attempt to hinder their progress) into the dungeon.

They had left him there, secured to a chair with the demon trap engraved shackles, inside a demon trap carved into the floor, with hastily drawn sigils covering the walls. With Dean actually being a demon, they weren’t taking any chances. In the kitchen, Cas had healed Sam’s broken nose (if only to the point where it was no longer completely fractured and painful, so as to save as much of what little grace he had left), while Sam recounted the story from the beginning, starting with the phone call from Crowley.

“It sounds like Crowley was rather desperate to be rid of him,” Cas stated matter-of-factly. “But why not just kill him?”

“That thought had occurred to me,” Sam answered thoughtfully. “The only thing I could come up with was that he either can’t, which is a pretty scary thought, or he won’t because he needs something from us and he knows that I won’t help him if he hurts Dean. Either way, I don’t like it.”

“Understandable. But I feel that our first course of action should be to remove the Mark. It is entirely possible that doing so will bring Dean back to his humanity.”

“Yeah, but is that even possible?”

“There may be a spell somewhere, I’d have to search for it. It could take some time, and you’d have to deal with your brother in his current state for the duration. I’m not sure how long it…” Cas trailed off, his head cocking to the side slightly as his eyes narrowed. “Do you hear that?”

Sam heard nothing. “Uh…no?”

Cas listened a beat longer, then rolled his eyes and started walking back towards the hallway that led to the storage room. Sam followed, and as they grew closer he began to hear the shouts from the dungeon.

“WHO DO I HAVE TO STAB TO GET A BURGER? HELLOOOOOOO? MAYBE SOME PIZZA, OR LIKE….SOME PIE?....YEAH, YEAH DEFINITELY SOME PIE!!”

Sam and Cas exchanged a look as they walked into the room.

“Finally,” Dean grumbled. “I’ve been shouting for like an hour.”

“That’s not true, Dean,” Cas reasoned seriously. “You’ve only been in here for twenty minutes.”

“Thanks, genius. I know that. I was being dramatic. For….dramatic effect,” Dean grinned. “Now food me, bitches.”

Sam gave Dean a questioning look. “I didn’t think demons needed to eat.”

“Grown men don’t need to have long flowing shiny hair, either, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping you, now, does it?” Dean smirked.

Sam pursed his lips, and slid his eyes to the table next to the door. Dean followed his gaze, noted the duct tape, and laughed. “Aw, come on, man. One hair joke? That’s really all it takes?”

Cas stood back, silently observing Dean as the brothers off-handedly sniped at each other. Apart from the fact that he was a demon, he was still so very Dean. The mannerisms, the snark, the desire for food that would only encourage heart disease, they were all so much the man he had come to know over the past 6 years. It hurt him in a way that he couldn’t be entirely sure wasn’t leftover from his time spent as a human; an ache in his chest, a sadness for his friend that he so longed to help, and the subsequent feeling of helplessness that he wasn’t quite sure where to begin, or if that help was even possible. He knew that without his grace, without the full capacity to be an angel, he was never going to be able to pull off the things that would be required of him in order to bring Dean back to his old self. His guilt in regards to the things he had done in the past, things he had deemed absolutely necessary at the time, things that he knew had caused great pain for not just Dean, but Sam as well, was something that was beginning to haunt him on a fairly regular basis. 

He could feel the grief over his shortcomings rising, and he raised a hand to his face in puzzlement as moisture trickled down his cheek. This was certainly new, although he was aware that sometimes humans, in response to their emotions, were known to elicit tears as a means of dealing with whatever they were going through. For Cas, it was simply another sign that his grace was disappearing. 

He wiped his face more thoroughly, and pulled himself up taller. “Sam? A word please?”

Sam met him in the hallway, a small frown of concern creasing his brow. “Is everything ok?”

Cas stared at him, squinting slightly. “…Well, your brother is a demon and we’ve got no way to…”

“Cas,” Sam laughed softly. “I thought we’d gotten beyond your literal take on things? But no, I just meant you look…well…depressed as shit.”

The angel cleared his throat, “Yes, I suppose that to some extent I am a bit saddened by some recent revelations.”

“If Dean heard that sentence, he’d probably double over with laughter and ask you to repeat it in English,” Sam smiled. 

Cas turned his eyes sadly to the door beyond which his best friend in the world was currently chained (and, for what it’s worth, still grumbling about his lack of cheeseburger). “He would, this is true.” He sighed. “Sam, I know that this is not something that you can look past, but I feel that it is going to be necessary if we are going to save your brother.” Sam looked at him expectantly. He sighed again, and continued, “I’m going to have to find more grace.”

Sam lowered his head, took a steadying breath, and answered “Whatever you have to do, Cas, I can live with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are welcome! I know some of the chapters seem short, but I try to write until the objective for the chapter is reached, and I don't want to add a ton of filler just to lengthen. I promise it's all going somewhere!


	6. Chapter 6

It was an odd scene in the dungeon of the bunker.

Dean, shackled to his chair, eyebrows raised, lips pursed in contemplative amusement, eyes glancing around the room, and every so often back to Sam.

Sam, standing a few feet in front of the chair that Dean was currently shackled to, holding a tray with a plate of rapidly cooling food, face screwed up in contemplative unease, eyes locked on his brother’s shackled hands. 

Dean made a sucking sound with his teeth, breaking the silence. “You know, I’m pretty picky about who I let hand feed me. And, uh, no offense, Sammy? You ain’t my type.”

Sam huffed and turned around. Dean craned his neck as he watched his younger brother set the tray down on the table. 

“Hey, come on now, you can’t tease a guy like that!” Dean shifted uncomfortably. “Look, you just unchain me, I promise I won’t cause any trouble.” 

Sam snorted.

“What?! Just unchain me. I’ll still be in the demon trap, right? And this crazy shit Cas scribbled all over the walls is meant to keep me demonically sedated, right? What’s the harm?” Dean broke out in his most winning grin. 

I hate it when he makes sense, Sam thought, and pulled the chain with the key out from under his shirt. 

“Don’t make me regret this, Dean,” he murmured as he unlocked the shackles. 

Dean sighed happily as he rubbed his wrists, then nodded at the food on the table, waggling his eyebrows in Sam’s direction. 

Sam chuckled slightly, handing over the plate. He returned to the table and sprawled on the edge of it, picking at the sandwich he’d made for himself. 

“S’so good dude,” Dean proclaimed through a mostly chewed mouthful of burger. “I would sell my soul to actually be hungry for this shit, but damn…”

“Uh, Dean…”

Dean chuckled. “Poor choice of words, right?”

They finished their meal in silence (well, Dean finished his meal, Sam mostly stared at his). Sam was collecting their dishes to take to the kitchen when he sighed and turned away from his brother.

“Do you want to be like this, Dean? I mean, what you are, what you’ve become, it’s everything we’ve always…” He paused, trying to calm his anxiety over Dean’s response. “Do you even want us to help you?”

Dean stared at the ground in front of his chained feet. “You givin’ me the choice?”

“No.”

“Then what’s it matter?”

“It matters because you’re my brother, and I’d sure as hell rather have you fighting next to me than fighting me. I’ve got the feeling that Crowley is up to something, and I’d feel a hell of a lot better knowing you were backing me up.” Sam turned to face him. “Demon or not, you’re still Dean, and I need to know that if I let you out of here? If I unchain you, let you out of that demon trap, you’re not gonna bolt and fuck me over. And I’m having some serious trouble figuring out if I even wanna trust what you say when you answer me, you don’t exactly have a great track record for telling me the truth, you know.” He took a deep breath. “So just tell me, Dean. Straight facts. Do you want me to help you? And do you want to help me?”

Dean swallowed, and closed his eyes. He didn’t know how to explain to Sam that it felt like a split personality mecca in his head. Part of him wanted nothing more than to be there with his brother, fighting the good fight. But part of him wanted to tear the world apart, set it on fire, and laugh while it burned. And that was the part of him that didn’t quite understand why Crowley had been so keen to get rid of him. He knew the King of Hell had plans, big ones at that, and the demon Dean Winchester would be such a delightful addition to those plans. 

And so, there was his dilemma: he could fight his way back to Crowley and join in the King’s plans, or he could stay and fight with his brother to take down that King. He scrunched his eyes closed further, as if that would help him come up with an answer for Sam. When he opened them, Sam was still standing there, guardedly watching him.

“Yes.”

Sam raised his eyebrows.

“Yes, I’ll help you. And first things first, there’s some things you need to know.”

*****

Two hours later, the boys were sitting at a table in the bunker library. Sam’s head was in his hands while Dean sat quietly, waiting for him to react. 

“So…” Sam started. “You’re saying there’s a book of lore, located in some alternate dimension, that will give whoever has it control over the supernatural?”

“Basically. At least from the sounds of it. He called it the Lore Codex, said it’s pretty much a leash for all monsters. You have that book, you have the beasts. He also said that as long as it remains open, those beasts are free to roam. Now I don’t know about you, but I take that to mean…”

Sam’s eyes widened. “If we close it…”

“Yup. Gone. Buh bye. Adios. Sayan…”

“Dean.”

“Heh. Sorry.”

“So this alternate dimension, how do we find it?”

Dean shook his head. “Yeah, about that. No one knows. There’s some kind of spell, but no one can make any sense out of it.”

“We need to get our hands on this spell. You think you can get back into Crowley’s and steal it?”

Dean grinned. 

“What?” Sam deadpanned. 

“Dude, I already have it.” He pulled a sheet of paper out of his back pocket and waved it at Sam. “How awesome am I?”

Sam laughed. “Wait, so if you didn’t know whether you were gonna help me or run back to Crowley, why’d you steal the spell?”

“See, I figured Crowley had called in the troops. You…you know you’re the troops, right?” Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah ok, so, I knew what was going on, I figured, I take the spell, that way I could guarantee that even if I didn’t decide to help you, Crowley couldn’t make any moves on the book without me. Like I said, how awesome am I?”

“I’ll see your ‘awesome’ and I’ll raise you a ‘stupid’,” Sam stated. Dean looked offended. “Don’t you think he’s gonna find it an awfully large coincidence that when I take you away, his spell goes missing?” 

“I casually mentioned to at least four demons that I’d seen Stu rummaging around in Crowley’s desk. Shouldn’t be an issue.”

Sam grabbed the spell out of Dean’s hand, reading quickly. “Most of this stuff seems pretty straightforward, but…”

“’Blood of father’s joy?’ Yeah, that’s what was throwing everyone. Although most of them seemed to think it just means the blood of a child.”

Sam stared at him. “Gross. Let’s just get the rest of this stuff and cross that bridge when we get to it.” He stood up to go check the stocks in the storage room as his phone rang. “This should be Cas, I left him a voicemail telling him that you were…” He trailed off as he realized he didn’t recognize the number, and answered the phone. “Hello?” Confusion swam over his face while he listened. “Ok….ok just calm down. We’re coming to get you.” He hung up and reached across the table for his jacket. 

“What’s wrong with Cas?” Dean questioned, grabbing the keys to the Impala out of Sam’s hand.

“Wasn’t Cas,” Sam answered. Dean held his hands out, waiting for a better answer. “That was Claire Novak.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are more than welcome! Please let me know if you like the story!


	7. Chapter 7

Sam had just finished locking the door to the motel room when the blonde girl heaved a tremendous sigh, and sat with a flump on the end of the dingy bed. He took a seat in a chair across from her and smiled encouragingly.

“Ok,” he started. “What you said on the phone, about being followed, do you know who these people are?”

Claire’s eyes shifted to the side as she chewed on her lower lip. “No, I’ve got no idea who they are. And I might have…sort of…embellished? A little?”

Sam scratched at his temple, dreading even asking what she meant by that. “Claire…”

“No, I mean,” she sighed. “Let me start over. They’re not actually following me. For weeks I’ve been having these dreams. Nightmares, really. This man keeps telling me I’m important, I’m important and he needs me. And then I explode. But not like normal, you know? It’s like…like a really bright white light. Like…with Castiel.”

Sam regarded her with curiosity, wondering if it was simply her subconscious remembering the ordeal of her childhood when her family was ripped apart, or if this was some new terror for the teenager. He figured he’d better find out.

“You’re sure you don’t know the man? Can you describe him?”

“Short. Curly hair,” she thought for a moment, then scrunched up her face. “Really bad teeth.”

Sam didn’t have to think very hard to land on who, exactly, that sounded like. He closed his eyes. “Metatron.”

“Yeah!” Claire exclaimed. “Yeah, that’s him!”

“Great,” Sam said with an eye roll. “Anything else happen in these dreams of yours?”

“Umm…” she said, thinking. “Yeah. Actually, the last few times, after I go all Big Bang, these people start chasing me, and they’ve got these long silver blades. So I turn and I run. And that’s when I wake up. But the thing is, the reason I called you. Two nights ago, I saw one of them.”

“Did they see you?”

“No, at least I don’t think they saw me. If they did, they didn’t react at all. I came back here and called you. I haven’t left the room since.”

“Good,” Sam said, rising from his chair. “Pack up your things, we’re leaving in five.”

While Claire threw what few belongings she had with her into a duffel, Sam ventured outside to the car to fill Dean in on the situation. 

“So the chick has a few nightmares, now we gotta be babysitters?” he grumbled.

“Dean, you know as well as I do that this probably means Metatron is looking for a way to get to her,” Sam countered. 

“Meta-douche. I’m getting real tired of this guy. The hell’s he want with a teenage girl anyway? I mean apart from the obvious,” Dean smirked. 

“Really dude? Gross. And I don’t think it’s his need for teenage girl as much as it is his need for Claire herself. Think about it, Dean. When an angel possesses a vessel they leave behind some of their grace. Castiel possessed Claire, and I’m betting that grace is what he’s looking for. Although to do what? I’ve got no clue. I just want to get her back to the bunker where she’s safe, then we can work out details.”

Just then Claire came bounding out of the motel room, threw her bag at Sam, smiled smugly up at Sam and chirped “Shotgun.” Sam gave a side-eyed glance at Dean, and folded himself into the backseat.

On the drive, Claire filled the guys in on what had been happening in the life of the Novak’s since Castiel had taken over their patriarch. Apparently, her mother, Amelia, had gone full rebel: booze, pills, late nights out with God-knows-who. Claire had rarely seen her over the first 4 years, and midway through her sophomore year of high school she had disappeared for two whole weeks. When she finally showed up at 3 P.M. on the 16th day, disheveled and wreaking of vodka, Claire had packed a few belongings and taken off. She’d been on her own ever since, sleeping in whatever warm place she could come across. Whenever she ran out of money, she managed to pick up a job waiting tables or washing dishes for a couple of weeks, sleeping in the backroom, keeping her tips stuffed in the bottom of her duffel until she had enough to move on. It hadn’t been a great existence, but she’d been fine with it. Until the nightmares started up. 

Sam listened attentively, but his mind was working a mile a minute as he processed the teenager’s story. He knew that eventually Cas was going to be a part of this, and that he was going to be around. What he didn’t know was how Claire was going to react to that. Sure, Cas was a decent enough guy. He tried hard. Granted, he tried hard at some supremely wrong things, but he meant well. But he had taken the girl’s father from her, and for all intents and purposes, had killed him. His body was still there, just fine as you please, but whatever was left of her father had long since moved on to…Sam wasn’t quite sure. He cleared his throat.

“Claire, you know…we’ve got some things going on, things that we’ve been trying to take care of for a while now, and…” He paused. “I just didn’t know how you’d feel about…Castiel.”

She stilled in the front seat, staring out the passenger window at the wheat fields flying by. 

Sam continued, “I mean, he’s not there right now, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be soon. And I’m not sure for how long…”

Claire sighed, and turned to face him. “I can’t say he’ll be my new favorite playmate, Sam, but…I’ll try to deal, ok? I mean, the man did turn my life to crap, so…” She tipped her head for a moment. “That’s not really right though, is it, calling him a man? So what then? Angel? Dickwad?”

Dean guffawed from the driver’s seat, smacking his hand on the steering wheel. “That’s Cas, man. Dickwad of the Lord.”

Claire grinned at him, then sobered as she turned back to Sam. “I promise I will behave, as long as he keeps his distance, ok?”

Good thing, Sam thought, as he glanced down to see the text Cas had sent in response to his request to get his butt back to the bunker ASAP. It read “I shall be waiting” (and was accompanied by a selfie of Cas, grinning from ear to ear, in front of the library shelves). Sam felt bad for lying to the girl, but while listening to Claire’s story about her nightmare, he had a stroke of genius. He knew how to get Castiel’s grace back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are always welcome!


	8. Chapter 8

The sound was audible almost before Dean had opened the interior door to the bunker. A loud clamor of cymbals and horns reverberated through their bones and into their teeth as the trio stepped onto the landing, Sam and Claire clapping their hands to their ears in an effort to avoid the splitting of their ear drums. They made their way down the stairs to find Cas, seated perfectly still at one of the tables, hands folded placidly in front of him, eyes closed, an almost dreamy expression on his face. 

“Cas!” Sam shouted as they drew closer. “Hey!”

The angel didn’t budge. 

“CAS!” He was outright screaming now, and still getting no response. He turned to Dean, eyebrows raised, half amused and half perplexed. He took a deep breath, and shouted the angel’s name again. Unfortunately, at the same moment he shouted, Dean cut the power to the old record player that they had found in one of the bunkers many rooms.

“CAS!!”

Castiel flew up out of the chair, arms flailing, his chair tipping backwards (Dean would forever swear that the sound which came out of him had only ever been heard from the mouths of tiny little girls). 

Sam put a hand on his shoulder, laughing. “Whoa there. Just us.”

“Yes. I see that now,” Cas responded, glancing cautiously at Claire. 

Dean chimed in, “Little loud there, don’t ya think?”

“Really? I find it soothing. It helps me to think.”

Sam laughed. “The 1812 Overture? At a volume that could probably be heard from the space station? That helps you think?”

Cas shrugged, humming for a brief second. “What is it….to each their own?”

Sam shook his head and, after brief instructions for Dean, headed off with Claire to get her situated in a room, and to give her time to get over the fact that Cas was not “not there” as he had promised her. 

“I know I said that he wouldn’t be here, and I’m sorry,” he said, opening a door to an empty bedroom. “It’s just…this is important, Claire, and it needs to be dealt with sooner rather than later.”

She peered inside, taking in the bland décor. “Look Sam, I get it…Just don’t expect me to hold hands with him and skip through the halls. He may not be the person I most want to be around, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t manage to get along with him for a little while and dear God, can I get some posters or pictures of something in here?”

“Sure,” Sam chuckled. “I’ll see what I can find in storage. Or we can pick up a few things the next time we head out for supplies?”

“Sounds good,” Claire smiled. “And Sam?”

He turned at the door, eyebrows raised.

“Thanks. You know, for coming to get me.”

Sam smiled, and headed off to find Dean and Cas. He located the latter back at the same table in the library, again listening to the 1812 Overture, only this time on a much more manageable volume setting. As he pulled out a chair, Dean sauntered in from the kitchen, grumbling about a lack of bagels. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Add them to the list. Did you find the spell?” Dean nodded, sliding into a chair. “Ok, so get this. Cas, you remember last year? With Gadreel?”

Cas nodded, while Dean fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair. 

Sam snorted. “Relax, Dean. It’s as ‘water under the proverbial bridge’ as it’s gonna get. More importantly, Cas, do you remember what you told me about angel possession? How grace gets left behind?”

Cas tipped his head slightly, regarding Sam quizzically. Sam watched his face eagerly, waiting for a sign that the angel understood what he was trying to get at. Slowly, a dawn of understanding crept over Cas’ face as he remembered. He had possessed Claire, if only for a few moments. He turned carefully, staring at the hallway that led to where Claire was putting her things away, then looked back at Sam sadly. 

“Sam. While I appreciate the thought you have put into this, I don’t…” Cas began. Sam started to interrupt him, but Cas cut him off with a hand on his arm. “I cannot ask her to go through what you went through when we attempted to remove the remains of Gadreel’s grace from within you, Sam. Do you remember that? It was excruciating. I cannot put her through a thing like that, not after…” He trailed off, dejected.

“Yeah,” Dean interjected. “But if we explain everything to her, how it’ll put you back to rights, and then we can fix me…”

“Dean, the last thing she cares about is my welfare,” Cas stated matter-of-factly. “Even with what little grace I have left, I can feel her resentment from here. Asking this will only make it worse. No. She’s not an option for a remedy to this situation.”

“Who’s not an option for what situation?” Claire stood near the hallway, leaning against the doorway. 

“Claire…” Sam started, moving to stand.

“I mean, I’m the only ‘she’ around here, so I’m just assuming he’s referring to me, right?”

No one replied.

“Right??” she insisted, glaring at Cas. Sam sat back down as Cas slowly stood and faced Claire.

“Yes,” he said quietly. 

“So…you say that I’m not an ‘option’ for something because it’s just gonna make me more pissed at you? But you’re gonna take away my choice of whether or not I want to be a part of this…whatever it is?”

Cas turned to Sam and Dean frantically, and with no idea how to handle a teenage girl who clearly wasn’t going to be happy no matter which scenario played out. They both just smiled at him. Turning back to Claire, he took a deep breath.

“I have no right to ask this.”

“True,” she scoffed, folding her arms.

“My grace was…taken from me. I managed to...procure some for the time being, but since it’s not mine, it’s fading, and that takes its toll. We may have found a way to get my grace back.” He paused.

“And that’s where I come in?” she glanced to Sam for confirmation, and he nodded. “How?”

Cas steeled himself, and looked at her calmly. “You have my grace. A part of it, at least.”

Claire looked between the three men in shock, searching for some sign that maybe Cas had misspoken, or that she had heard him incorrectly. She stumbled forward, and Sam stood up to guide her into a chair. 

“I don’t understand,” she whispered. 

Sam quietly explained to her what had happened while she stared at the table. He told her why getting the grace back was so important, about Cas helping to cure Dean, and removing the Mark. When he was finished, she glanced up at him, suddenly curious. 

“My dreams!”

Sam nodded. “Exactly. At least, that’s what we think they’re about. The man in your dreams, the one who tells you that you’re important. We’re pretty sure he’s the man that took Cas’ grace from him. And we’re pretty sure that he’s trying to find you because he knows that you’ve got a piece of that grace inside you. What we’re not sure about is why.”

“Well then get it out!” she exclaimed.

“Claire, it’s not that easy,” Sam stated. “It’s a tedious process, and it’s painful, not to mention dangerous.”

She sighed, staring at the table. No one spoke. She glanced up at Dean, who was watching her without expression. 

“I don’t care,” she said. “I’ll do it.”

“Claire,” Cas started towards her.

“But just so we’re clear,” she said, glaring at him, “I’m not doing it for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please let me know if you like the story, and comments are always welcome! I'd love to get some feedback from you guys!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took me so long to post this next chapter! I was sick, and then I had midterms, and just general craziness happening! Enjoy!

Dean sat at the library table, flipping through a pile of lore books under the guise that he was searching for a way to rid himself of the Mark. He was, in fact, staring blankly at pages while attempting to keep the nagging piece of himself that wanted to tear the arms off of the next person to cross his path under control. Over the past few days he had tried a few different methods of dealing. Whiskey first, of course, which had been a supremely bad plan, followed by porn, which had been a great plan with poor execution (Sam had mentioned the need for eyeball bleach, followed by a 5 minute lecture on door locks and how they work). Today, his plan of attack was research, but he found the harder he concentrated on stomping down the rage, the less he concentrated on what he was actually reading. He tossed the book to the side with a sigh, and headed down the hall to the infirmary. 

The screaming had quieted about a half hour ago, but there had been no word from Cas or Sam on what state Claire had been left in by the removal of Cas’ grace from her body. He knocked gently, opening the door slightly to peek inside. Cas and Sam were huddled off to the side of the room, quietly discussing something that, from the intense looks on their faces, was important. Wouldn’t wanna come find me, let me in on the all-important info, he thought to himself. Claire was laying prone in the chair, unconscious or asleep, Dean couldn’t tell from just a look. As he entered the room, Cas turned to him urgently. 

“Dean, good, you’re here.”

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” he scoffed in return.

Cas looked taken aback. “What? I don’t understand. Why would you thank me?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Just seems like you two have something important to discuss, and as no one felt the need to let me in on the secret…”

“Dean,” Cas replied calmly. “I came to find you, and you were so engrossed in your reading that you didn’t even acknowledge my presence. I assumed that what you were doing was more important. I am sorry if you feel I have slighted you in some way.”

Slighted him, not so much. Made him feel like an ass? Yeah, maybe. 

“Sorry, man,” he said. “I’m not exactly Mr. Patience and Virtue lately.”

Cas nodded solemnly, and Dean clapped him on the shoulder. 

“So come on, out with it, what happened?” Dean asked, hopping up to sit on the counter. 

Sam came back over from checking on Claire. “It went well, if you can call it that. It wasn’t pretty, but she seems to be alright. Just really tired.” He held up a small vial, glowing bright. “We got what we needed.”

“We got everything for this Restitution spell then?” 

Sam grimaced. “Not exactly. We need some part of the person who originally removed the grace.”

Dean frowned, hopping off the counter. “So not it, dude.”

“I’m actually headed to retrieve it right now,” Cas supplied. “That was the, uh, important news.”

Dean grunted his understanding, “Get gone, then. The sooner you get back, the sooner we can get this eye sore off my arm.”

Cas nodded once, then disappeared down the hall, humming what sounded to Dean suspiciously like the 1812 Overture. 

Dean headed back to his research, while Sam carried Claire down to her room, which seemed like it might be a lot more comfortable than the infirmary. After he had her situated, he headed to the library to help his brother. He sat down, grabbing the open book closest to him, and began to read. Fifteen seconds later, he set the book down with a quiet “Oh my God…”

Dean glanced up at him without raising his head. 

“Dean, are you actually reading these? How did you not see this?”

Dean craned his neck to see what book Sam had been reading, then complained “Wait, is there a way to remove this damned thing in that book? That’s like the first book I went through!”

“No, not how to remove the Mark. But it’s just as big.”

Dean stared at him for a good three seconds before snarking, “You gonna give it up, there, hot shot?”

“I’m pretty sure I just found the location of the Lore Codex.”

Dean huffed.

“What?” Sam asked, irritated. 

“Well, I mean, technically I found the location of the Lore Codex,” Dean answered smugly. 

Sam looked up at him, his eye practically twitching with annoyance. “Dean, you left a book open to a random page. The only thing you found was a way to get out of helping with Claire.”

Dean mimicked him, then said “Actually, I was just trying to keep myself from shoving my fist through your neck, but why split hairs.”

Sam closed his eyes and took a calming breath. “Let’s not argue about this, ok? Either way, we might have a bead on this book. As soon as Cas gets back, and we get his grace back where it belongs, we’ll run it by him and see if anything rings familiar. Until then…”

“We try to decode this spell so we can actually open the portal to get to the Codex,” Dean sighed.

“Actually, I was gonna say we snag a couple of beers and see if there’s a game on, but if you wanna research…” Sam spread his hands wide over the collection of books on the table. 

“Dude. Yes,” Dean said, and slapped the book in front of him shut. 

*****

 

“How’d you get close enough to get this?” Dean inquired, holding a Ziplock bag with a few strands of hair in it in front of his eyes, face scrunched up. 

“I, uh. I just sort of reached through the bars, grabbed a handful, and yanked,” Cas replied. 

Dean nodded in approval. 

“It seemed the best course of action,” Cas continued. “I did not want to risk what happened to Hermione. No way.”

Dean’s eyes shot to Sam, who was grinning and trying not to laugh as he mixed spell ingredients in a small bowl. “I’m sorry, Hermione?”

“Yes, Dean. Hermione.” Cas tore the bag out of Dean’s hand, and gave it to Sam. “In Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, she accidentally uses a hair from a cat in a potion. I did not wish to turn into Metatron’s cat.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Should he have a cat, I mean.”

Dean threw up his hands, and turned to Sam, who was still fighting a laugh. “You almost done with that?”

Sam nodded, and motioned for Dean to stand back. He glanced at Cas as he lifted the vial of grace. “I’m not sure what’s about to happen. You ready?”

Cas nodded gravely. 

With one last glance to make sure Dean was at a hopefully safe distance, Sam unstopped the vial, and poured the grace into the bowl. The air was suddenly filled with the sound of static, loud and grating, as a sparkling light pervaded the room in a dazzling display. The frenzied sound grew louder and louder while the light danced around the room. Sam glanced at his brother, only to see his face contorted in pain, trying desperately to cover both his eyes and his ears. He wondered fleetingly why it seemed to be affecting Dean so much more, then turned his attention back to the giant ball of swirling grace hovering loudly, and growing exponentially, in front of him. Just as Sam was beginning to think that it was never going to stop, and that he had somehow managed to unwittingly start another apocalypse, everything went completely dark and silent. He was just opening his mouth to ask if everyone was alright when the loudest and brightest explosion he had ever experienced sent him flying against the wall and into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!


	10. Chapter 10

Something was shaking him, of this Sam was certain. What he wasn’t clear on was what that something was, only that it wasn’t very strong, and was making a strange sort of muffled sound. He didn’t want to open his eyes, fearing that the pain in his head would only be made worse by any sort of light, but the nauseous feeling in his middle was not being aided by the soft back and forth motion. Just as he was about to open his eyes, the shaking mercifully stopped. He started to release a small sigh of relief when the something from before began kicking him in the shin. Hard. 

With a groan, he rolled away from the offending foot. He sat up on his knees, still not opening his eyes, and rubbed his hands over his face. The muffled sound was getting clearer, and he suddenly recognized it as Claire’s voice. He turned his head gently, in an effort not to cause more dizzy throbbing, and carefully cracked his eyes open to…nothing. Well, not quite nothing. The tiny bit of light from the candle the girl was holding was barely enough to illuminate a small two foot circle. 

“Oh thank God,” Claire exclaimed. “I was starting to think maybe you were dead, too.”

“Nope,” Sam answered, his voice cracking slightly. “Just feel like I want to be…Wait, what do you mean ‘too’??”

He scrambled up, not waiting for an answer, snatching the candle out of Claire’s hand. 

“Dean!” He shouted, searching frantically, but in vain. “Damnit, we need more light. I’ll go flip the breaker…”

“Sam, I don’t think that’ll help,” Claire said. “I mean, the lights just kind of…exploded.”

“Shit,” he cut her off. He hadn’t even thought about the possibility that putting Cas’ grace back would result in that kind of power. “Find a flashlight, more candles, something. Anything.” 

“Here, Sam, he’s here,” Claire replied calmly, guiding Sam with a gentle hand on his elbow over to one of the tables. She set the candle on the floor, off to the side, and stood back. 

“Dean!” he yelled, crouching down on a knee. Sam placed his hand on his brother’s back, feeling the quick ragged breaths that were shuddering through him. He shook him gently, not sure if he was experiencing the same sort of disorientation that he himself had gone through upon waking, though there was no response. Sam hesitated a moment before rolling Dean onto his back, and immediately recoiled. 

Blood was running from Dean’s eyes, and had pooled underneath him on the floor. It bubbled in the corners of his mouth as his breaths rattled out of him. Sam put his hands on either side of his brother’s face, feeling warm wetness against his palms, and realized that blood was coming from Dean’s ears as well. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he breathed, starting to panic. He patted one blood covered cheek gently. “Dean, come on man. Come on. This isn’t happening. I worked so hard to find you, you’re not getting out of here this easy. Come on.” He felt like he was choking on his own tongue. The blood was still trickling, and his hands were becoming slippery. He could feel tears welling up behind his eyes, and he fought to keep them there. Crying wasn’t going to help his brother. His voice cracked into a whisper. “Come on, buddy. You’re a fucking demon, for Christ’s sake, and you’re gonna let some angel blowing out the lights take you down?” 

As he said the words, the moments before the explosion came rushing to the forefront of his mind. He remembered Dean, face contorted with pain, desperately trying to cover both his eyes and his ears. He wondered vaguely if it was because of the spell, because his brother was a demon, or because of the Mark. He shook his head to clear out the worry, he’d have time to figure that out after he stopped the flow of blood from Dean’s face. 

Sam shifted his weight back onto his heels, gently resting his brother’s head in his lap. For the first time since he had woken, he realized that Cas was missing. He looked around, but in the dim light from the candle, he couldn’t see much other than the fact that at some point, Claire had left him alone. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to drown out the nagging anxiety that not only had this spell incapacitated Dean, it had annihilated the angel it was meant to help. 

He sat that way for a while, cradling his unconscious older brother, rocking back and forth ever so slightly, praying to Castiel. He didn’t know if his prayers were even being heard, but it was something to do while his mind ran at breakneck speed through his options. The problem was that there weren’t any, not really, not without Cas there to help him. Can angels even heal demons, he thought to himself. 

A shuffling noise behind him brought him out of his head. He turned to see Claire, arms full of flashlights. She offered a small smile. 

“I found these. I thought maybe I could set them up like lamps?”

Sam nodded minutely, eyes tracking back to Dean. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see him in better light. But as Claire set them up one by one, and the room lightened a bit, he could see that the flow of blood was beginning to taper off, even beginning to dry in places further from the immediate source. 

Claire fidgeted just behind him. “I’m going to take one of the lights with me, get the glass cleaned up.”

Sam turned a questioning look her way.

“Yeah, the uh, lightbulbs? They’re sort of everywhere,” she gestured around towards the floor, and Sam noticed for the first time the bits of glass laying strewn about the room. 

“Yeah, ok, that’d be great,” he said, trying to sound calm and collected. 

She nodded, smiled at him again, and headed off. 

He knew that he should figure out how to move Dean somewhere that wasn’t a glass-covered floor, but he wasn’t sure if moving him was A) wise, he wasn’t sure what exactly was wrong with him, and B) possible, his brother wasn’t exactly petite. 

Sam’s head flew up as he heard the bunker door slam shut. “Claire?” he called. 

The voice that answered him was definitely not Claire. “No. It’s me.”

“Cas,” he exhaled on a sigh. “Where the fuck did you go?”

Cas glanced around the library, looking oddly at the flashlights set up on the tables as he replied, “Nepal. And then Peru.” Sam stared at him. “Did you know they eat guinea pigs there?” Cas almost looked stricken.

“Peru…” Sam mumbled. “Cas what the hell?”

“It was not by choice, Sam, I assure you. My grace, it sort of…hmm…I believe the most appropriate terminology would be ‘spazzed out’. Did I do this?” He gestured to the darkened lamps. 

Before Sam could nod, the bulbs were replaced, and bright light filled the room. He squinted, unaccustomed to the intensity. When he managed to be able to open his eyes without his retinas burning, Cas was staring hard at Dean, still cradled in Sam’s lap. 

“And this. I did this, as well?”

“I don’t think it was you, per se. I think it might have been the spell. When it magnified that small amount of grace into something more complete, I think it…I don’t know, I think it somehow attacked him.”

Cas nodded tersely. 

“Is there anything you can do?” Sam inquired. 

Before the angel could answer, silence permeated the room as the rattling breaths Dean was drawing came to an abrupt halt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know if you're liking the story, and comments are always welcome! Feedback helps me so much!


	11. Chapter 11

There was chaos in Sam’s head. For yet another time in his life, he was holding his dead brother, wildly thinking of ways to undo whatever had been done. He clutched Dean to his chest, and looked anxiously at Cas, who was still standing in the same place, completely still. Sam shook his head, unable to form the words to ask what to do. Cas was staring at Dean, head cocked on an angle, a slightly confused and mystified look on his face. Sam questioned him with a look, but Cas was slow to answer.

“Sam…” he began in a hushed tone, just above a whisper. “Sam, something has happened.”

Sam looked up at him, mouth agape. He struggled to form the words but managed to choke out, “Clearly, Cas. I’m very aware.”

“No. You don’t understand. Something has happened.”

Sam stared at him, obviously Cas had lost his mind on his trek through the Himalayas, the Andes, and whatever other mountain range he had seen on his Tour de Grace. He swallowed. “Then please, enlighten me.”

“It’s Dean. He’s

“…dead?” Sam supplied, monotone and expressionless.

“Human.”

Sam gazed at him, disbelief on his face, then turned to look at his brother. “No. No that’s too easy.”

Cas was confused by this. “Too easy? Sam, he’s dead. I don’t think I would call that ‘easy’. But when I look at him now, I don’t see anything other than Dean.”

The Winchester looked up at him expectantly, gesturing towards his brother. 

“Yes,” Cas said with a nod, a small note of authority creeping into his voice. “Set him on the floor, carefully. You may want to stand back. I’m not sure if my grace is completely under control yet.”

Sam raised his eyebrows at that, but seeing as how Dean wasn’t going to get any deader, he didn’t argue the safety point. He stood, and moved away until his back was pressed against the wall, then turned his eyes to the angel. 

Castiel crouched down on the floor next to Dean, taking in his bloody face, and noted with a bit of surprise that he still felt the pull of emotion at his friend being hurt. He hadn’t expected to retain much of the human tendencies he had picked up since his fall, but he was glad for it. Sure, dealing with feelings was sometimes aggravating and difficult, but he enjoyed the compassion and feeling of friendship that came with them. 

He reached out and placed his palm on Dean’s chest, closed his eyes, and breathed. He felt the heat pass through him and begin to warm the man on the floor, felt his friend’s chest start the steady rise and fall of the living, and the angel exhaled, leaving his hand resting on his friend. He opened his eyes when he heard the clearing of a throat, and was met by two green eyes boring into his own in puzzlement.

“Uh, Cas? Buddy?” Dean said. “You gonna stop handling the merchandise?”

Cas pulled his hand back and stood up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Dean.”

“Nah, man,” Dean laughed, pushing himself to his feet. He shook his head slightly, a look of thoughtful curiosity on his face. “Damn, Cas. I don’t know how you did it, but I feel…” He stopped just short of the word ‘clean’, not wanting to drudge up anything from the past few months that he might just be blocking out. He shook his head again, and Cas looked at him questioningly. “Nothing, man. Just know that I appreciate it. Really.”

Cas smiled at him, turning to look at Sam, who was still standing against the wall. 

“Dean. Are you…” Sam began.

Dean breathed a laugh. “Starving, Sammy? Hell yes.”

*********  
Sam grimaced. “Could you maybe swallow before you talk? I mean honestly, Dean.”

Dean did just that, grinning at his brother. “Happy? Anyway, as I was saying, I don’t remember much. The last thing I got is Sammy dropping your grace into the bowl. Next thing I know, I’m laying on the floor getting touched by an angel.”

Cas choked on his pizza.

“Y’alright there?” Dean asked, clapping him on the back. 

Cas nodded, setting his food down and pushing the plate away. He didn’t really need it anymore, and it didn’t necessarily taste very good to him now, but it made him feel like one of the guys. Dean snagged the slice, eyebrows raised in Cas’ direction. When he received an affirmative response, he finished it off, licking his fingers.

“What the hell even happened back there, Cas?” Dean asked.

“It must have been the grace. The spell took what little we had and amplified it into a much more substantial amount. I believe it purified everything close to it.”

“So, what, it just sandblasted the demon part of me right out?” Dean asked, incredulous. “How am I not a burnt up piece of toast?”

“Perhaps purifying is gentler than smiting?” Cas offered. 

“Can it purify out the guilt?” Dean murmured. 

Cas gave only the smallest of signs that he had heard him, just a quick glance in his direction.

Dean stood up, wandering over to lean against the other table, slamming shut the door to a conversation he wasn’t ready to have. 

Sam cleared his throat, shifting the book he had been holding on his lap to the table in front of him. He opened it, turning pages as he explained what they had learned about the Lore Codex and what it could do, as well as what they had found about the location of the portal that would lead them to it. 

“’Behind the wall of Baptism’,” Cas repeated softly. He turned his gaze to Sam. “This means something to you?”

Sam hefted another book onto the table, this one an atlas. “Yeah. See, there’s this state park in northeast Minnesota, right along Lake Superior? There’s a river there. Baptism River. With a 60 foot high waterfall.”

“Behind the wall of Baptism,” Cas murmured again, nodding. 

“Sam,” Dean said nonchalantly, fighting a smirk. 

“Yeah?”

“Even if I hadn’t been distracted while doing research, how in the hell did you expect that I would have known jack shit about some pissass waterfall in BFE Minnesota?” Dean replied, cuffing his brother on the back of the head. “And while we’re on the subject, why did you immediately figure this out? You got some secret waterfall fetish I don’t know about?”

Sam made a face. “I don’t even know what a waterfall fetish would be, but you don’t remember Bobby going on and on about the fishing at Big Falls on Baptism River? We musta been, I don’t know, 6 and 10? But it was all we heard about that entire summer.”

“Not ringin’ a bell, but I’ll take your word for it,” Dean shrugged. “But fat lotta good knowing where this portal thing is when we don’t have the slightest clue how to open the damned thing.”

Sam pulled the spell out of the back of the book where they had stashed it for safe keeping, setting it on the table in front of Cas. “Any of that make sense to you?”

Cas read it thoughtfully, nodding intermittently, before looking up at the guys. “This is strangely familiar,” he said, pointing at the line in the spell that had thrown everyone else. 

“’Blood of Father’s Joy’?” Dean asked. “You know what that means?”

Cas chewed his lip. “No, but I know that I have seen it before. I just can’t place it.”

“Can you find out? Ask around?” Sam inquired. 

“Of course.” Cas stood to leave, then inclined his head towards Dean. “Are you OK with this taking priority over finding a way to remove the Mark?”

“Yeah, man. I’m good for now. World needs savin’, Dean Winchester’s problems can wait. Same shit, different day, right?” 

*********  
Cas had been gone about five minutes before Sam quietly spoke up from the book he was reading. “Anything you wanna talk about?”

“I ain’t ready for a heart to heart, if that’s what you’re askin’.”

Sam simply looked back at him, silent. 

Dean sighed, shutting the book he’d been flipping through. “I did some shit, ok? And it’s shit that I’m gonna have to live with, and I’m gonna have to get over, and I will, on my own time, in my own way.”

“You were a demon, Dean, it’s not like you…”

“I was a demon for the past week, too, and I managed not to pillage the bunker, didn’t I?”

Sam looked back down at his book. 

“Look Sammy, all I’m sayin’ is that for right now, I’m OK. Will I be OK tomorrow? Next week? Fuck if I know. But for right now, I am. And for right now I just want to figure out how to finish this spell. Alright?”

“Alright,” Sam agreed, resigning himself to forcing this conversation some other time as Claire wandered in, carrying Sam’s laptop. 

“So this video’s making the rounds on the internet,” she said. “I thought maybe you’d be interested?”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Oh yeah.”

“Not that kind of video, you old, creepy perv,” she retorted with a grimace. She turned the laptop towards them, pressed play, and watched their mouths drop open. 

“Is that…” Dean stuttered. 

“No way,” Sam said at the same time. 

“Yup,” Claire replied smugly. “That would be one Oprah Winfrey, and she’s rocking some pretty stellar demon-black eyes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <3 And side note, yes, I am aware that with Dean technically dead, Cas wouldn't really be able to see a demon/human difference, but it's my story, damnit, and I liked it that way lol


	12. Chapter 12

“There are literally dozens of videos on this guys YouTube channel,” Sam declared in awe. “And not just Oprah. I mean, look. Lady Gaga, Tina Fey, Adam Levine, Joe Biden…”

“That explains a lot,” Dean joked. 

“I’m serious, Dean,” Sam bitchfaced. “And it seems like there’s a pretty good mix of demons and shifters, here.”

“Why the hell are these tools taking over celebrities?” Dean muttered.

“I hear the Oscar’s Swag Bags are pretty awesome,” Claire offered. Dean high-fived her.

Sam glared at them before going back to the videos. 

“It makes sense, you know,” Claire said. 

Dean and Sam turned to look at her.

“I just mean…what better way to get people on your side? Built in fan-base, right?”

Sam nodded with a sigh. “And they’re just piling up the meatsuits. Basically an unlimited supply.”

“Ooooooh,” Dean exhaled, making a face. “Crap.”

“Crap?” Sam questioned. “What crap? What do you know?”

“I may have forgotten to mention something.”

Sam closed his eyes and slowly counted to three while he waited for Dean to continue.

“Crowley wants the Codex, I already told you that, but in all the excitement going on with Cas’ grace and getting the demon knocked out of me, it just sort of slipped my mind. He mentioned a couple times about recruiting an army. He just never told me how.” 

“Looks like we just found out,” Sam stated. 

******

Two hours later, the three of them had worked through all of the videos and managed to compile a list of which monster was which. 

“Ok Claire, give me a rundown on Shapeshifters,” Sam said. 

“Shifters, check. Let’s see, I’ve got Lady Gaga, Robert Downey, Jr, Taylor Swift, Jennifer Aniston, Adam Levine, James Franco, Hillary Swank, Wayne Gretzky, Justin Timberlake, and Benedict Cumberbatch.”

“What the hell is a Benedict…whatever the hell you just said?” Dean scoffed. 

Sam ignored him. “And Dean, who do we have on the Demon side?”

“Ummm, alright that’s Oprah, Tom Hiddleston, Lebron James, Tina Fey, Scarlett Johansson, Jimmy Fallon, Tori Spelling, Joe Biden, Miranda Lambert, and Jennifer Lawrence.”

“At least they don’t have Beyoncé,” Sam said with a sigh.

Dean looked down at his list. “Oh, and Beyoncé.” 

Sam stared at him, and he just shrugged. 

“Claire, why don’t you see if you can’t dig up any more videos. There’s bound to be more of them out there, and the better we know what we’re up against, the faster we can figure out what to do about it,” Sam instructed. Claire nodded, snagged the laptop and headed to her room. He put his elbows on the table, and let his face fall into his hands.   
“We have to find this Codex,” he mumbled into his palms, “or we are so fucked.”

*****

The next morning when Sam wandered into the library with coffee, ready to start the search for anything related to their wayward spell ingredient, he found Claire already deep in research mode, searching for more names to add to their list. 

“Find anything?” Sam yawned. 

“Only two. Katie Couric and Dr. Phil. Both shifters.”

Sam shook his head. “These seem like odd choices to you?”

Claire considered this for a moment, then answered, “Not really, I guess. It gives them a pretty decent cross section. All ages, all access, you know?”

Sam agreed. “That does make sense.”

“Oh, also, I got kinda bored when results ran low, so I took it upon myself to dig a little bit on the dude that runs this channel.”

Sam pulled a chair up next to her. “And what did you find?”

“Well, turns out the dude is actually a chick. Coraline Helton. She lives in North Dakota. Couldn’t really find much else. At least nothing that would tell us what she’s doing compiling videos of celebrities with wonky eyes.”

“Good work, kid. You’re not too bad at this,” he said with a smile. “Looks like I know what Dean and I are up to today.” He stood and stretched, then headed towards the hall to go wake his brother. 

“Don’t you mean what Dean and you and I are up to today?” the teen offered hopefully. 

Sam shot her a look. “Nope. Said what I meant. You can stay here, keep plugging away. Trust me, Claire, the more we know, the more…”

“I know, I know. The more prepared we’ll be,” she grumbled, turning back to the computer. 

*****

The boys arrived in Bismarck, North Dakota the next morning, after driving through the night. They parked the Impala on the street outside the house at the address Claire had found for them by hacking into the corporate website of the clothing store where Coraline worked. A white cat sat in the window next to the door, watching them intently with one green eye, one blue. The pink heart tag on her collar declared her as “Emma”. 

“Well hi there, Emma,” Dean remarked, waggling his fingers at her. She responded by laying her ears flat and hissing for all she was worth. Dean blinked and looked at Sam, who looked back at him like he was a moron. Dean shrugged, straightened his tie, and knocked on the door. 

The door flew open, revealing a girl in Hello Kitty pajamas with dark unruly hair and glasses. She looked back and forth between the two of them for a quick second, muttered “Shit” under her breath, and slammed the door in their faces. 

The boys exchanged a look before Sam knocked again. “Coraline, we just want to talk to you. We promise you’re not in any trouble.”

“Ha! Feds show up at my door and I’m not in trouble?” came the muffled reply. 

“We want to talk to you about the videos you posted,” Sam said.

There was silence for a moment, then the door cracked open to reveal one eye. “What videos?”

Sam pulled up the video of Oprah on his phone, and turned it towards her. She heaved a sigh and opened the door the rest of the way. “Fine. We can talk. But not here. I’ll meet you in town. There’s a restaurant nearby, just off the highway.”

“We passed it on the way here. We’ll meet you in 15?”

Coraline nodded, closed the door and headed off to get dressed. 

******

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Coraline said again, wrapping her hands around the mug of hot chocolate in front of her. “I noticed the weird thing with their eyes, and I thought ‘well that’s weird’, so I looked around to see if I could find more, and I did. I posted them for other people to look at. End of story.”

“Coraline…” Sam started.

“Cora, please. My mom got a little carried away on birthing drugs or something. She’s the only one that calls me Coraline, and I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

“Cora,” Sam began again. “I think you do know something about these videos, and what exactly is going on in them. The fact that you won’t look either of us in the eye is pretty telling.”

She rolled her eyes. “Social anxiety. It exists. Google it. I told you what I know, can I go now? I don’t need the entire town to see me talking to the Feds.” She stood up to leave. 

Dean shot a look at Sam, who gave a small nod. “We’re not Feds.”

Cora gave him a wary side-eyed glance, and braced her hands on the table, very much resembling a rabbit set to bolt. 

“My name’s Dean, this is my brother Sam. We’re hunters.”

Before the last word had left his mouth, the rabbit bolted. 

“Shit,” Sam muttered, throwing a $20 down on the table and taking off after her. 

They caught up to her at her car, where she was standing fumbling with her keys, swearing under her breath. She turned to look at them as they closed in on her, and it was clear that she was trying not to cry.

Sam held up his hands in a peaceful gesture, “I don’t know what’s going on, but we just want to know about the videos, Cora. That’s all. You’re not in any trouble.”

“Yeah, about that,” she said quietly, biting her thumbnail. “I’m thinking your Cora-flavored internet search failed to return a pretty important fact.”

“What’s that?” Dean demanded.

Cora took a deep breath, exhaled, and said, “I’m a witch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are always welcome!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note: I have finals right now, and school has been kicking my ass for the last couple of weeks. Rather than stress myself out even further trying to get chapters posted with moderate frequency, I'm going to take a break until April 1st.

It had taken Sam ten minutes to talk Dean into putting his gun away, and five rounds of Rock Paper Scissors before Dean had accepted defeat, climbing behind the wheel of Cora’s little blue car to follow the girl and Sam back to her house. It was a short seven minute ride, but when he unfolded himself from the driver’s seat, his knees were popping and complaining. He rubbed at them absently while they sat on the living room couch, questioning Cora.

“You don’t exactly fit the description on most witches we’ve come across,” Sam said gently. 

Cora looked down at her bright teal skinny jeans, sweater with the fuzzy panda, and mismatched socks, then back up at Sam, the fear replaced with general annoyance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean, then returned his attention to the matter at hand. 

“I’m just saying, you seem like a nice, normal girl…”

“Nice, normal girls can hex the shit out of people, too, Sammy,” Dean chimed in. 

Sam shot him a look that clearly said “not helping”. 

“I’m not ‘hexing the shit’ out of anyone, Captain Know-it-All,” Cora snapped, folding her arms across her chest and glaring at him. “Way to stereotype. I don’t hurt anyone. Ever. Did it never occur to you that maybe not all witches are into the gross, slimy part of practicing?”

“So, if you’re not hexing anyone, or hurting people, or any of that, what are you doing?” Sam asked. 

“Little things. Simple spells.”

Dean huffed at that and stood, but Cora continued. 

“Things like…making my hair not look like I drove to work with my head out the window. Getting rid of a zit. My damned eyeliner.”

“Eyeliner,” Dean repeated, rolling his eyes and turning away.

“Hey dickwad, you try getting those little wings perfect every time.”

“Ok, ok,” Sam interrupted. “So…good witch? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes. That is what I’m saying,” Cora answered. “So can we please make a deal that Bozo over there won’t shoot me?”

Dean raised his hands in mock surrender, and Cora finally relaxed completely. 

Sam looked thoughtful for a moment, and then asked “How did you end up involved in witchcraft in the first place?”

Cora looked pained as she sat cross-legged on the floor to pet Emma. “This old friend of mine. Jenna. She got in with this…coven, I guess? And she started hanging out with them more and more, and me less and less. When she offered to bring me along one time, I thought what’s the harm? I didn’t want to lose my friend.” She looked out the window, sadness flashing across her face. “At first, everything was great. Little things, like I said before. Getting a stain out of a favorite dress. Changing the price tag on a really expensive jacket. But then…” 

Sam leaned forward slightly, and quietly said, “Go on. It’s ok.”

She swallowed hard before continuing. “I swear I didn’t know. I had no idea what they were doing. And if I had known, I’d have left and never gone back. That poor boy…” She started to cry. “This kid, Timmy or something. He worked at the coffee shop with Jenna, and he really liked her. He asked her out a few times, and she kept saying no. He wasn’t, like, creepy about it. He’d just ask if she wanted to get a drink, or if she wanted to hang out after work. But she always said no. Which, I can’t really blame her, the guy was kind of a weirdo. But he didn’t deserve… I don’t even know how they did it. I just know that one day, Timmy was a perfectly nice, 25 year old weirdo, and the next, he was like, 97 years old and dead from ‘natural causes’. But it was them. It was the coven. The night before Timmy’s mom found him, they did this…we did this spell with his nametag from work. I didn’t know what it was for, I just repeated the chants like I was supposed to. And we killed him. I killed him.”

“So you gave up the dark stuff?” Sam asked. 

Cora nodded, sniffling, then stood up to go wash her face. Sam turned to his brother. 

“You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“If you’re thinking let’s stay in town and waste this coven, I am so on board,” Dean said. 

“Not quite. I’m thinking it might be kind of helpful to have a non-sociopath witch on our side.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding.”

“Think about it, Dean. We’re up to our ears in spells, and who knows how many more we’re going to have to go through to get to this Codex. And we could use some help to hide what we’re doing from Crowley until we know exactly where we stand on finding the damned thing.”

Dean sighed. “You trust her? That much? You wanna bring her into the bunker? With all the supernatural items a witch could hope for?”

“Do you honestly want to tell me that you think that girl would hurt someone? Did you listen to her story? She could hardly get through it. I really think we could use her, man.”  
Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, and gave in. “Fine. But the second that bitch does something shifty, I’m shooting first and asking questions…never.”

They both turned at the sound of a laugh to find Cora staring at them from the hallway. 

“You two must be high if you think I’m going anywhere with you. I’ve known you for, what, like a half an hour? And dreamboat over here has threatened to shoot me not once, but twice now.”

Sam reached out to her, and she stepped back against the wall. 

“No. No way, José,” she said, shaking her head. 

“Cora, please. If you heard what Dean said, then you probably heard what I said before that,” Sam implored. “We could use your help. Please.”

She chewed her lip. “Are you giving me a choice?” she asked, already knowing the answer. 

*******

The drive back to the bunker was a combination of painful and comical. Cora had refused to leave Emma, and after another brief argument about going with them, Sam had finally gotten Dean to cave and allow her to bring the small white cat. Twenty minutes into the 9 hour trip, Dean had given up trying to drive with one hand constantly rubbing his red, itching eyes with the other on the wheel, and handed over driving duties to Sam. 

“Stupid cat,” he muttered from the backseat as Sam pulled back onto the road. The comment was followed by a sneeze. And then another. And another.

“The first pharmacy I see, I promise I’ll stop and we can get you some Benadryl,” Sam laughed. 

“Or we could just throw that cat out the window,” came the mumbled reply. 

“Pipe down, loser, or I’ll throw her in the back with you,” Cora sing-songed. 

Dean grumbled and groused, squirming around in an attempt to get comfortable. He finally rested his head against the window, scratching absently at the Mark on his arm, letting the sound of Baby’s tires on the pavement lull him to sleep. It was going to be a long ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I wouldn't be updating until April, but I managed to get a bunch done during the last few days while I had some time off. It's looking right now like final chapter count will be 27 (28 if you count the epilogue). So we're halfway there!

Cora had just finished putting away the few things she had brought with her from home when Sam knocked on the door, poking his head inside. 

“When you’re all set, why don’t you come out to the library? You can meet Claire, and we can fill you in on what we’re up against.”

“Sure, just give me a few minutes, I’ll be right there,” she smiled at him. “I just wanna get Emma’s stuff set up.” They had stopped at a local pet store just before arriving at the bunker to get some cat essentials, and they were in bags on top of the bed. 

“Take your time,” he said before heading off down the hall. 

Cora sighed, looking around as she began taking things out of the bags. 

“Well, Emma. Welcome home, I guess.”

Ten minutes later, she walked into the library to find Dean pacing tensely while Sam spoke in hushed anxious tones to someone on the phone. 

“I don’t know, Cas...No, she didn’t leave a note, and all of her stuff is still here…Will do…Let us know if you hear anything.” He hung up and turned to Cora. “Looks like meeting Claire will have to wait.”

Cora shrugged, then wandered over to look at the titles on the books that lined the walls. 

“Cas hasn’t heard from her?” Dean asked.

“Nope. Which isn’t unexpected. He’s the last person I would think she would reach out to,” Sam replied. “I’m just hoping she didn’t take off out of here on a lead. She wasn’t exactly happy that I told her to stay here while we went…”

“Witch hunting?” Dean laughed. 

“Sooo funny, you tool,” Cora muttered, returning to the table and taking a seat. “So if she didn’t go to follow up on something, where do you think she went?”

Sam shook his head. “Don’t know. But there’s some people that would love to find her. Unfortunately, we already got what those people are after, and I’m not sure how they would react to that news.”

While Sam went off to the kitchen to make coffee, Dean filled Cora in on where things stood with the King of Hell’s army, and the spell to find the Codex. 

“Anything about that spell seem out of the ordinary?” he asked. 

She shrugged. “Not particularly, no. You said this book will seriously get rid of all the monsters? Just…poof, gone?”

“That’s the story. No idea if it’s worth a shit or not, but we don’t really have much else to go on right now.”

Cora hesitated. “Will it get rid of other things? You know, like, witches?”

“Hell if we know. We’ll just have to cross that rickety bridge when we get to it,” Dean replied snidely. 

“Um, hello? I don’t exactly fancy aiding in my own death, you douchebag.”

He rolled his eyes and went back to sorting through the books on the table. Cora picked one up, glancing at the text, reading the Latin quietly to herself. Her head shot up as she heard a click, and she found herself face to face with the barrel of Dean’s gun. 

“Hey! HEY!” Cora shouted, stumbling quickly to the other side of the table. “Good witch, remember?!”

“What were you just doing, then? What was all that?”

“I was reading,” she said, exasperated. 

With a roll of his eyes, Dean uncocked the weapon, but didn’t lower it. Cora tipped her head, pointedly nodding at it, staring him down.

“You asked for my help, and when I said no you dragged me here anyway, I’ll thank you quite kindly to get your…compensation out of my face,” she smirked.

Dean clenched his jaw, but set the gun on the table between them. “Happy?” he sniped.

“Ecstatic,” she mumbled, her eyes returning to the text she had been scanning before the interruption.

A phone buzzed, and Cora pulled hers from her pocket, sighing. 

“Who’s that?” Sam questioned, returning to the room with three cups of coffee balanced in his hands. 

“My mom. For the 17th time. I don’t think she bought my note about going to visit my friend Bernadette in Michigan,” Cora said. “I mean, it’s definitely something I would do, but leaving on the spur of the moment without even talking to my mom isn’t exactly on my list of personality traits.”

“Let her know you’re ok, maybe she’ll relax for a bit,” Dean suggested. 

“Yeah, ok.” She typed out her reply, hit send, and set the phone down on the table to start working. 

A half hour later, a phone buzzed again, and as Cora reached for hers, Dean grunted and answered his. 

“What do you want?” he bit out. 

“Nice to talk to you too, slugger.” At the sound of Crowley’s voice, Dean’s hand pressed to his forearm. “I’ve missed you so.”

“Cut the shit. What do you want?”

“I’ve recently….acquired something of yours. I was wondering if you might like it back?”

Dean got Sam’s attention, put the phone on speaker and set it down on the table. 

“We’re listening.”

“Sam? Dean?” Claire’s voice came through, breaking towards the end. 

“Claire!” Sam exclaimed. “Are you alright? Where are you?”

Crowley clicked his tongue a few times. “Now now, Moose. Do you honestly expect me to give away all my secrets?”

“Crowley, what the fuck do you want with her? The girl’s no use to you,” Dean growled. 

“That’s where you’re wrong, Dean. Where you see a girl? I see a nice shiny bargaining chip. And before you go hatching any halfwit rescue parties, keep in mind that she’s got a ride-along babysitter. You try anything, she breaks her own neck. I’ll be in touch.” He hung up. 

“God damnit!” Dean shouted, shoving books off of the table and onto the floor, coffee flying. 

“Dean!” Sam yelled. 

“We don’t have time for this, Sam! Do you get that? This is just another setback in us finding this fucking Codex and slamming the door on his snarky ass for good.”

“I get that, Dean. I do. But screaming and throwing a fit isn’t going to help any. It’s just going to be another distraction while we clean up. And it’s going to scare our newest recruit half to death and put us back at square one with her trusting us.”

Dean lowered his head. “I just want to get this done, Sammy.”

“I know that,” Sam replied, putting his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Hey, how are you feeling, by the way?”

Dean gave him the side-eye. “’M fine, why?”

“Just asking,” Sam said nonchalantly, straightening the papers he had picked up off the floor that weren’t covered in coffee. “The Mark bothering you at all?”

Dean glanced at his arm, then clenched his jaw. “Not a bit. If it’s alright with you, Dr. Winchester, I’d like to get back to work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!


	15. Chapter 15

Cas had felt her presence the moment he had landed in Manhattan. There was a tug, a pull at his Grace, that had guided him to the small coffee shop across a quiet street that ran adjacent to Central Park. A bell chimed as he entered through the intricately etched glass door, and he recognized her at once.

She was standing behind the counter, white blonde hair glistening in the slip of sunlight that was just slanting in through the front window, laughing as she chattered with the customer currently at the head of the line. He hadn’t said a word, hadn’t made any motion out of the ordinary that would distinguish him from any other patron of the shop, and she hadn’t glanced in his direction, yet he noticed a tensing of her face that was most likely imperceptible to the human eye. 

He stood quietly at the back of the line, part of him wondering if she would disappear right in front of his eyes. She didn’t, and soon he was standing at the head of the line and on the receiving end of a warm smile. Her nametag read “Abigail”.

“What can I get for you this morning?” she asked politely.

Cas blinked at her, slightly panicked that he had no idea what the proper thing to order was in a place such as this. He tilted his head, and squinted up at the menu.   
A few moments later, he was back on the sidewalk in the warm sunshine, his Mocha Java frozen coffee with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle clutched in his hand. He took a tentative sip as he crossed the street, and thought that had he not been a celestial being whose senses were much keener than that of their human counterparts, he would quite enjoy the cold sweetness. He dropped the cup in a garbage can as he headed off into the Park to find a place to sit quietly and contemplate his next move. 

******

The next day, Cas found a park bench a few doors down from the coffee shop. He sat there, perfectly still, waiting and watching. He had half expected to find that Abigail had not returned to her job when he arrived this morning, but he had caught sight of a swirl of blonde hair as he had flown in. 

He watched her until her shift ended, and she headed off down the street, the heels of her black and white pinup style shoes clicking on the pavement. 

*******

The following morning, Cas had just situated himself on the park bench, preparing for his stake out, when a voice quietly spoke up behind him.

“What do you want, Castiel?”

He stood and turned slowly, his eyes landing on Abigail’s pale face, her ice blue eyes wary. She looked ready for flight. 

“Why are you following me?” she demanded more forcefully when he didn’t answer.

“I was not sure it was you,” he replied.

She raised her eyebrows.

“No. That is false,” he said. “I wanted to be sure that you were not going run away.”

She spread her arms, a gesture of “I’m still here”. Cas nodded.

“May I ask…” he began, but trailed off, uncertain if even asking that much would be greeted with acceptance or anger. 

“Castiel,” she said softly. “You may ask anything you wish. You know that I never considered myself above any of Father’s other creations.”

He considered this for a moment, then continued. “Why are you here?”

“Here as in this coffee shop? Or here as in New York?”

Cas shook his head. “Here. Earth. Just wandering around with all of these people. The angels…you know what I’ve done, Abigail. You know that there are angels on Earth, that Heaven was essentially locked.” He grew more and more agitated as he spoke. “But it is open again! You can go home, you can return, yet you are still here. I don’t unders…”

“Stop,” she interrupted softly, her hand on his sleeve. “You call Heaven home, Castiel, but I call it prison. Never allowed to leave, to enjoy the beauty of life, and love, and death? That is not something that I would willingly return to. It wasn’t my fault that I was born into a vessel that couldn’t contain me, yet I was punished for it profusely. For two thousand years I was trapped. And then something amazing happened. Someone popped the lock.” She brought her hand up to rest on his cheek. “You set me free. For the first time in millennia, I got to feel the grass under my feet, the sun on my face.” She smiled at him. “Do you understand now?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Yes, I understand.”

She dropped her hand, and turned her face up towards the sun. Cas suddenly noticed they were standing in the middle of a meadow filled with purple flowers, the noise of the city gone. 

“Provence,” Abigail smiled at him before he could ask. “It’s where I come whenever I need a quiet moment.”

They stood in silence for a few moments, soaking in the landscape. 

Cas turned towards her, “I cannot be the first angel to find you. I could feel you from miles away. It was as if you were calling to me.”

She smiled sadly. “During my…stay…in Heaven, I learned to subdue my true self. To keep it at bay, if you will. It’s difficult, and it takes a lot to maintain that level of protection. It’s been wearing on me to do so, and I supposed my guard has been slipping. No, Castiel, you are not the first angel to find me. There have, in fact, been several, but I was able to avoid them by coming here. They could only sense me when I am near. Once I…relocate…the only way to find me again would be to stumble upon me as they did in the first place.”

“Yet you did not run from me. Why?”

“The ability to sense other Celestials goes both ways. You posed no threat to my safety, or my free will, but when you came back again and again, I began to grow concerned that you had ulterior motives.”

Cas accepted this, and was quiet for a moment.

“Abigail, do you have any idea where our Father has gone? Why he has abandoned us?”

She looked pained for a moment before answering, “No, Castiel, I do not.”

He narrowed his eyes, taking a step towards her. “Out of all the beings close to him that he would tell his plans to, you are the most likely. You were his greatest joy, his most beloved. I cannot believe he would go without a word to you, at the very least.”

Abigail barked a laugh. “Yes. Daddy’s greatest joy, his prized possession. Try his biggest failure. An entire plan to save his humans, and it was blown to bits because little Abbie couldn’t keep herself together.”

“That was hardly under your control. You said it yourself, your vessel wasn’t strong enough…”

He stopped short. She was gone. Cas sighed, resigning himself to getting back to the task he had been assigned. He was just about to throw himself into flight when a thought slammed into his brain. 

He reran the last few moments of their conversation through his head again, focusing on the words they had both used to describe her. 

“His greatest joy,” Cas murmured to himself. “Our Father’s…greatest…”

He closed his eyes in despair.

He had found his objective. He had located the enigmatic “Father’s joy”.

And he had just lost her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys!


	16. Chapter 16

“Crowley, I swear to God, we’re not negotiating this. You’re going to hand Claire over to us, demon-free, and then, if you’re lucky, I’m not going to rip your head off and piss down…” Dean stopped shouting into the phone as Cas appeared in a flutter of wings approximately four inches in front of his face. He blinked at him, listening to Crowley as he took the Winchester’s silence as a cue to start speaking again. 

Dean held the phone a bit away from his mouth, and said “I’m not really listening to him, what’s up?”

“It’s Abigail. I found her.”

Dean pursed his lips in an “is that supposed to mean something to me” gesture, and shook his head. “Yeah, I don’t know who that is.”

Cas looked apologetic, and said “Facepalm.”

Dean closed his eyes, took a steadying breath as Crowley rambled in his ear, and explained to the angel, “You don’t say it, man. You do it.” Cas looked confused. “Look, just, nevermind, who is Abigail?”

“She is the key! The spell ingredient!” Cas exclaimed excitedly. “She is what is going to open the portal to the Codex! I went to New York to meet with an old friend who I thought might be able to help us decipher the spell, but instead I found Abigail. At a coffee shop, actually. Although my drink wasn’t what I imagined coffee to taste like. But she’s been missing ever since the angels fell, and I can’t believe that I didn’t realize that the spell ingredient was her.”

It was at this particular moment that Dean noticed that his phone had gone oddly silent. 

Fuck, he thought. “I don’t suppose there’s a chance you’re this quiet because you’re dead, and not that you just heard all of that?”

“Actually, I think I’ve got everything I need out of this conversation,” Crowley said. Dean could practically hear the snarky smile on the bastard’s face. He punched the End Call button, shoved his phone into his pocket, and pointed at Cas. “Bunker. Now.”

*******

“I am very sorry, Dean,” Cas said for what must have been the eleventh time in the last five minutes. Cora was sitting across from him, chewing on her lip, and suddenly jumped up, disappearing down the hallway.

“It’s fine, Cas,” Sam offered. “There was no specific information. There could be hundreds of Abigails working in coffee shops in New York.”

Dean rolled his eyes with a huff. Cas hung his head, feeling guilty. He was beginning to wonder if every time he tried to do the right thing, the wrong thing would eventually occur. 

Sam shot his brother a look that clearly said “shut the hell up”, and stated “Dean, it’s not that bad, and you know it. Stop making him feel worse. The important thing is, we know exactly where she’s at, and Crowley doesn’t. We’ll just go get her.”

“Actually,” Cas said quietly. “We don’t. Know exactly where she is, I mean. I sort of…lost her…again.”

Dean opened his mouth with what one could only assume was going to be a snarky comment, but sneezed instead. Cora snickered as she sashayed back into the library, carrying a slightly protesting Emma. 

“Oh no no no. You put that thing back,” Dean demanded.

“No way,” Cora countered, plopping the put-out cat onto Cas’ lap. “It’s proven that petting an animal can reduce stress. Go ahead, Cas. You pet away.”

Cas was staring down at the squirming pile of white in his lap. “I do not think that this animal wishes me to touch it.” Cora glared at him, and he placed his hand on top of Emma’s head, softly scratching her ears, and she calmed considerably. 

“There, see?” Cora said, beaming. “She likes you.”

She patted Cas on the shoulder, stuck her tongue out at Dean and retook her spot across the table from Cas. While her back was turned, Cas whispered seriously to Sam, “She does not like me. I used my Grace to put her to sleep.”

Sam put his hand over his mouth to cover his laugh, then gestured at Cas. “Alright, what’s the story with Abigail? Dean said she’s the key to the spell?”

Cas sighed, stroking softly through the sleeping cat’s fur. “Yes. I should have thought of her sooner. Her name literally mean’s “father’s joy”. 

“There must be thousands of girls named Abigail, though, right?” Cora asked. 

Cas smiled. “Not like her. She wasn’t just named Abigail. Her name is who she is. She is the Father’s joy.” Cas looked at them expectantly. 

“You gonna start makin’ sense soon, or….” Dean grumbled, irritated. 

“What does not make sense? She is God’s most precious creation.” Cas looked for all the world like he could not figure out why this didn’t explain everything to the three people sitting around him. 

“She is his child,” he stated blandly.

“Aren’t we all?” Cora inquired.

“Yes, but…” Cas paused, and looked exasperatedly at Dean. “You are always accusing me of stating things too literally. I am being quite literal here, yet you are not seeming to grasp the concept of what I am saying.”

Sam made a small “oh” sound, and his eyes got wide. “You mean Abigail is…”

“Wait,” Dean interrupted. “You sayin’ this chick is fucking Jesus?”

“No, she is in no way fornicating with…” Cas began.

“Stop, just hold on,” Sam interjected, giving Dean a frustrated look, then turning to Cas before he had the chance to smite his brother. “She is his literal child. Like Jesus. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes,” Cas breathed on a sigh of relief. “His twin sister, to be exact.”

Sam furrowed his brow. “There’s no mention of her, not in the Bible, not in any Lore I’ve ever come across.”

“No, they all but erased her. You see, the two of them were…are…comprised almost completely of Grace. Like an angel, but more powerful. Extremely so. They were born into their vessels. Abigail’s could not handle it.”

Dean made a face. “So she exploded?”

“Not quite,” Cas replied seriously. “The Christmas story that you are familiar with? The wise men and the Star of Bethlehem?” The trio nodded. “It was not a star they followed. It was her. Her grace radiated from her very being. Gabriel tried to stop it. But there was nothing that could be done. She simply was not strong enough to contain it.”

“So what happened to her?” Cora asked quietly.

“She was, well, banished, for lack of a better term. Confined to Heaven. When Metatron…when I…”

“She fell with the angels,” Sam supplied. 

“Yes, exactly,” Cas confirmed. 

“So why erase her? Why cover it up?” Sam wondered.

“God’s plan, at its core, was to send both children to save humanity. For both of them to bring his flock back to him. Back to the way that is good. Unfortunately, without Abigail as,” Cas paused, looking thoughtful for a moment, “backup? Yes, without his sister as backup, those in power at the time were able to put an end to that plan.”

“But what about all of that ‘dying for our sins’ stuff?” Cora asked. 

“That was not part of the original plan. When Abigail was sent to Heaven, her brother had to take on the entire mission on his own. It was difficult for him, even with recruits, to spread his message. The two of them were meant to be here, among humans, for hundreds of years. Teaching love, and patience, and kindness. When that failed to take place…many angels place the blame for the way this world has turned out squarely on Abigail’s failure to maintain her vessel.”

“But she’s down here now, and she’s not a giant searchlight, right?” Dean questioned. 

“No, she is not a giant searchlight, Dean. Apparently, a couple of thousand years of confinement allows one to hone ones skills of suppression.”

“Fair enough,” Dean replied. 

Sam put his hands down on the table and stood up. “Well, one thing is definitely for certain. We need to find her. Before Crowley does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please let me know if you like this! I'm debating writing another when this one is finished!


	17. Chapter 17

Dean had wanted to drive. He was outnumbered two to one, as an entire day’s drive by car versus the blink of an eye was not a decision of Rocket Science caliber for neither Sam nor Cas. The latter were currently standing on a quiet path in the middle of Central Park, Sam barely containing his laughter as Dean flailed his way out of the overgrowth along the dirt trail. 

“I assure you, Dean, I thought I was landing with enough space for all of us to fit comfortably on the path,” Cas said gravely.

Dean glared at him, pulling sticks and brambles from his arms and pants. “Yeah, whatever, let’s just find this chick and get the hell out of here.”

As the trio made their way out of the wooded area and into the more open portion of the park, Cas struggled to get a read on whether or not Abigail had returned to the city when she had left him last. He couldn’t sense her, and he hoped wholeheartedly that she had simply reinforced her effort to keep herself hidden. His face must have shown his concern, because Sam spoke up.

“We’ll find her, Cas. Even if she’s not here, there’s got to be some way to either summon her or locate her.” As he was speaking, they walked past a food cart, and Dean pulled an about-face. Sam reached out, grabbed his arm, turning him back around. “Stay on target. Please?”

“But Sammy. Funnel cake,” Dean practically moaned. 

Sam clenched his jaw, and continued forcibly pulling his brother along their intended path. 

They had just exited the park when Cas stopped abruptly, causing Sam to drag Dean directly into him, in turn causing Dean to punch Sam in the back. 

“Ow!”

“Sorry,” Dean replied, making a face that said he was anything but.

“She’s not here,” Cas stated solemnly, lowering his head.

“Great. Is there anywhere else she,” Dean started, but he was cut off when Cas grabbed his and Sam’s arms. He raised his eyebrows as he looked around at the purple flowers that were now in front of him as he finished, “may have gone?”

Cas bit his lip, turning in a circle frantically. 

“Where are we?” Dean mouthed at Sam, who shrugged as he looked down at his phone. 

“Cora,” he explained, walking away a bit to take the call. 

Dean turned back to Cas, only to find the crestfallen angel looking for all the world like he was going to burst into tears.

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Cas, I swear to Christ, if you don’t stop apologizing, I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.”

Cas looked taken aback. “You know that I…”

“Yes, Cas, I know. You fucked up, you’re sorry, I get it. Apologizing a thousand times isn’t going to find Abigail, though, is it?” he spat out.

“No,” Cas said quietly, watching as Dean rubbed at the Mark that was hidden beneath his sleeve. “I will try to stop being such a hindrance to the mission.”

Dean rolled his eyes, turning to find Sam had finished with his phone call. “What’s the word?”

“Well,” Sam said, casting a glance at Cas, who appeared to be inspecting the sleeve of his trench coat, “apparently there was a Beyoncé concert in Japan last night, the entire audience started rioting. They trashed the venue, set everything they could find on fire, and basically went crazy. There’s about 700 people missing.”

“Missing? How do that many people just disappear?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know, but there’s more. About an hour ago there was a movie premiere in London. Every person in attendance committed suicide, with the exception of two of the stars: Tom Hiddleston and Jennifer Lawrence.”

“Surprise, surprise,” Dean muttered. 

“Yup,” Sam said. “They’re both on the demon list.”

“How do you get an entire theatre of people to kill themselves? And…how’d they do it?” Dean wondered.

Sam made a face. “Uh. They grabbed whatever was handy and bashed their own brains in.” 

“Gross,” Dean mouthed silently as Sam peered over his shoulder. Dean turned to follow his brother’s gaze, his eyes landing on Cas, sitting serenely in the flowers, eyes closed. He raised his eyebrows at Sam, who shrugged again. 

“I’m praying,” the angel said softly. “Stop thinking so hard, you are interrupting.”

The brothers stood together in silence, waiting while Cas finished his prayer and stood. The three of them stood there, not talking, for almost two minutes before Dean finally gave up. 

“Praying to wh…” he started, just as a blonde woman in a vintage pink dress popped into the meadow directly in front of them.

“Is that true?” Abigail said, almost too quietly for them to hear. “The King of Hell is coming for me?”

Cas nodded. He turned to Dean with an indiscernible look on his face, then turned back to Abigail. “I am sorry. It is my fault. He would not even know you were here on Earth if it weren’t for me. Please, forgive me.”

Her face softened. “Of course, Castiel.” She turned to Sam. “But I am to believe that you can keep me safe from him? And his followers?”

“Yes, we have, um, this place. It’s, uh, it’s warded and um…” Sam stammered. 

Abigail placed a hand softly on his arm and said “If Castiel considers this place a haven, then I am of no mind to argue with him. He made it quite clear that my presence there is of the utmost importance. I will gladly go there with you. My safety in return for my help. I believe this is agreeable?”

Sam stared at her. Dean rolled his eyes at his brother, in disbelief that after all this time, he still managed to be awestruck by the powerful people they came into contact with.

“Yeah, good, let’s get going,” the older Winchester ordered, and the four of them joined hands and disappeared.


	18. Chapter 18

“I seriously don’t need to learn how to shoot,” Cora said, staring at the gun on the counter nervously. 

“Sure you do,” Dean assured her, picking up the weapon and placing it in her hand. “Come on, it’s easy.”

She stared straight ahead as he stood directly behind her, placing his hands over hers and moving the gun into position. He is not hot, she thought to herself, he is not hot and I am not attracted to him because he is a douche of the worst capacity.

“You just line it up with the target, see?” he was explaining. Cora nodded slightly. “Ok, now you just take a breath, pull the trigger, and…”

Cora screamed at the force of it. If Dean hadn’t been holding her hands, she’d have dropped the gun back onto the counter and probably managed to shoot herself. 

“Huh,” Dean said, his gaze on the faceless silhouettes hanging at the back of the shooting range.

“See? Headshot. No more lessons, I’m all good.”

“Yeah, except you’re not,” Dean countered, taking her chin in his hand and turning her head to the paper in their row, two down from the one she was so proud of. “That one is yours.”

She jerked out of his grip. “Whatever. You were the one aiming, anyway. So way to go, sniper mcgoo.”

Dean stared at her as she walked away. 

“How’s target practice going?” Sam asked her as she entered the kitchen. “Dean have any new holes I should know about?” He looked up from his breakfast with a disturbed look on his face.

Cora turned and stared at him. “Clearly you know how gross and weird and wrong that sounded, but no, I did not shoot him.”

“She’d have missed, anyway,” Dean quipped from the doorway, scratching at his arm. “The only one of us who learned something today was me, and that is the fact that she is not leaving the bunker.”

“That’s not fair!” Cora scoffed.

“Oh, I’m sorry? How is it going to be helpful for us when you shoot one of us? Or yourself?” He turned his attention to Sam. “I don’t know why the fuck I let you talk me into bringin’ all these extra people around. Never needed this much help before, and it’s not like they’re bein’ all that helpful either.”

“Dean, you know that circumstances are diff…” Sam said, but Dean interrupted him.

“How are they different? There’s a fucking apocalyptic problem goin’ on, we fix it. This ain’t like it’s our first rodeo here, Sam.”

“We’ve never been up against Crowley when he’s got a legion of super accessible recruiters, Dean. We need to get this done fast, and to do that we need help.”

Dean slammed his hands down on the table. “Well let me know when they start fucking helping!” He turned an icy glare in Cora’s direction as he headed back out the door and disappeared down the hallway.

Sam sighed. “I’m sorry, Cora. He’s not normally…well, he is normally a little cranky about stuff, but not like this…”

“I get it,” Cora answered quietly. “Cas explained about the Mark, what it does. It can’t be easy.”

Sam nodded sadly. 

Cora gave him a small smile. “I’m gonna go hit the books. Keep looking for something on getting rid of it.”

********

It was quiet in the library. Cas and Cora were pouring over a dusty old spell book that Cas had located in the storage room. Sam was perusing websites, looking for some pattern in the bizarre things happening involving their new Celeb status monsters. Dean was drinking whiskey, staring at his shoes that were propped up and crossed neat-as-you-please on the table. 

Abigail came into the room, cleared her throat softly, “I’m not sure who this belongs to, but it’s been buzzing non-stop while I was trying to make cookies.”

Sam jumped up, grabbing his phone from her, “Thanks, I must have set it down and forgotten about it.”

She smiled, and was about to turn to head back into the kitchen, when the phone began buzzing again and Sam promptly said “Crap”.

They all turned to look at him.

“Crowley,” he grumbled in response, receiving a collective groan in answer. 

He sighed, taking the call, and placing it on speaker. 

“This had better be good.”

“Enough with the niceties,” the demon on the other end of the line began. “We both have something the other wants. I propose a trade, even, no tricks, no ruses.”

“Yeah, I fail to see how that’s a reality,” Sam replied. 

“Come on now, Moose, don’t play coy. Abigail for Claire. Tit for tat.”

Dean chuckled at the word “tit”. Cora gave him a reproachful look, and kicked him under the table. Hard.

“Why would we give you the exact thing you need to do exactly what we’re trying to keep you from doing?” Sam asked, ignoring them.

There was a sharp cry from someone on Crowley’s end. “Maybe that’s why.”

“Damnit,” Sam whispered, glancing at Dean. He held up a finger in a “wait a second” gesture, then said “Alright, fine. Time and place.”

Dean jotted the address down, and Sam finalized plans to meet up. When he finally hung up the phone, Abigail was shifting her gaze between the two brothers. 

“I trust that you don’t actually plan on handing me over to…that?”

Dean shrugged. Cora punched his arm. He gave her a dirty look, then turned back to Abigail and said “No. At least I’m assuming not. Sam?”

“Nope.” He gave Dean a meaningful look, and the older brother’s face lit up in a brilliant smile. 

“Aww yeah.”

“What?” asked Abigail and Cora at the same time.

“Ambush,” Dean replied, with a look on his face normally reserved for pie. 

*******

Night had fallen when they finally reached the address Crowley had given. Sam and Cas stood in the empty parking lot, waiting for someone from the other camp to make their presence known. It didn’t take long.

“Where is she?” Crowley demanded. 

“She will show up when we have proof that Claire is here. And that she’s only Claire,” Cas answered sternly.

“Funny that you’re her knight in shining armor. Considering how much she hates you.”

Cas glared, but Crowley huffed and snapped his fingers. Two demons appeared, a bound and teary-eyed Claire Novak between them. 

“You alright?” Sam asked her. 

She was shaking, and on the verge of hysterical crying, but she nodded. 

Sam casually made eye contact with Dean, who was making his way closer to Crowley and his group from behind. It was taking him longer than they had anticipated. 

“How do we know she’s alone in there?” Sam asked, trying to stall. They could deal with whatever demon was stowed inside Claire after they dealt with Crowley. 

The King of Hell spread his arms in a “go ahead” gesture, and Sam tossed a side-eyed wary glance at Cas, who slid an angel blade from his jacket, then turned his steely gaze back to Crowley. Sam reached into his coat, removing a small flask of Holy Water, and slowly began to make his way towards Claire. He held his hand out in a placating gesture, and was almost right in front of her when all hell broke loose. 

The demons standing on either side of Claire lunged out, one of them clipping Sam in the leg. He fell to the ground, reaching desperately for the knife tucked into his belt.   
Dean came at them at a run, trying to get to Crowley, who smirked and disappeared. He made a move to grab Claire, and pulled her off to the side, away from the fray.   
He looked over just in time to see Sam sliding his knife out of the smaller of the two demons, as Cas practically beheaded the other. 

He turned back to untie Claire, and stopped. She wasn’t tied anymore, and Crowley was standing next to her. 

“Nice try, boys,” he said before turning and nodding at the girl. She smiled up at him with shining black eyes, turned back to the trio of hunters, raised her eyebrows, and snapped her own neck.


	19. Chapter 19

In the moments upon the return to the bunker, it hadn’t been difficult for Dean to sneak off. It had been rather easy, actually. With everyone’s attention focused on Cas in their attempts to soothe his grief over not having made amends with Claire, no one had noticed one among their group missing. He hoped that by the time they noticed that he wasn’t in the library, and subsequently wasn’t in the bunker at all, he’d be far enough away to accomplish what he needed to without getting anyone else involved. 

If he was being honest with himself, he was surprised this moment had arrived as soon as it did. He had been told upon taking the Mark that eventually he was going to be called upon, and to his mind, it sounded like something that would be a ways off in the future. Not that he imagined he had too much future ahead of him, what with the path current circumstances appeared to be on.

Regardless of present situations, Dean found himself just outside of Concordia, Kansas, at the end of an abandoned two-track at the edge of a long over-grown field. He was leaning on the rear bumper of the Impala, in the process of ignoring the 19th call from either Sam or Cas (he couldn’t be sure, he’d stopped looking at the phone 11 calls ago), when company finally arrived. 

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cain.”

The man ambled out of the shadows, his long hair still in the breezeless night air. He held up his hands in a show of peace, and Dean relaxed his hold on the gun tucked against his back.

“There’s no need for that.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah. I think I’ll determine that for myself.”

Cain shook his head, smiling. “Are you going to give me a chance to explain?”

“Explain what? You told me before that I would be called upon to end your ass. Well, you called, and I’m here.”

Cain clucked his tongue, giving Dean a sly smile. “Now, now. Let’s not get hasty. I’ve got an…oh, let’s call it an opportunity for you.” He slowly paced in front of him. “I know the Mark is doing things to you. It makes you angry. It makes you want to hit things. Kill things? Have you gone that far yet?” He paused, waiting for an answer. “No, I don’t think you have. I’d be able to tell. I can feel your anger, Dean. I can feel the thirst for blood. And it hasn’t been sated yet. But you want to. Oh, do you want to.”

“You’re wrong.” Dean clenched his jaw. 

Cain held up a finger, tilting his head to the side in mock contemplation. “No, see, that’s where you’re wrong. This Mark connects us, Winchester. So when I say I know what you want, I mean I know what you want. So I know that when I offer you this prospect, you’re going to consider it very carefully.”

Dean rolled his eyes, tired of waiting. “So what is it, then? What’s this big amazing thing you’ve got lined up for me?”

Cain stopped pacing, turning to look straight at Dean, steepling his fingers under his chin. “A partnership.”

Dean cocked his head back, licked his lips, then laughed while he shook his head. “That’s your big plan? You want me to join you? For what, some kind of old school biblical style bloodbath?”

Cain glared at him, cutting off his laughter when he said, very quietly, “I’m sorry. I assumed you wanted to survive the coming Hell party.”

“Oh, I’m gonna survive it. Because I’m gonna stop it.”

Cain stilled for a moment, considering this. “Stop it? How?” he asked slowly. “From what I understand, Crowley has amassed quite the army. You’ve amassed…Sabrina the Teenage Witch and a rogue angel.”

Dean squinted at him, debating on how much information he wanted to hand over. “Oh we’ve got a few tricks up our sleeves.”

“Unless you’ve got a way to suppress hundreds of thousands of monsters at once, I don’t think your ‘tricks’ are going to be of much use.”

Dean smirked, which was enough to clue Cain in.

“No,” he whispered reverently. “The Codex? How did you even manage to find it?”

“Damnit,” Dean muttered under his breath. He threw his hands up. “We don’t actually have it. We know where it is. And we know how to get it.”

Cain raised his eyebrows, nodding. “Good. That’s good.” He paused, looking down. “But I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, Dean.” 

In seconds, Cain was on him. Dean dropped to one knee, pulling at the arm wrapped around his neck, trying to free himself. It wasn’t working. He reached to his back with his right hand, grabbing for the knife he knew was there. Except it wasn’t. 

“Looking for this?” Cain laughed, holding it in front of Dean’s face before tossing it to the side. 

With a grunt, Dean pulled his left leg close to where his right knee supported him on the ground, and with as much effort as he could, slammed his foot back into Cain’s thigh, sending the man flying backwards. Dean gasped as he braced his hands on the ground, pushing himself up. 

He pulled his gun out, cocked it, and aimed at Cain’s head. “This won’t kill you, but it’ll put you down long enough for me to say what I gotta say.” Cain looked up at him, angry, but clearly accepting the situation. “It occurs to me that, we close this book, you’re one of the things that gets poofed.”

“Astute,” Cain replied, annoyed.

“So I’m confused. You tell me one day I’m gonna have to kill you, then when I tell you about how I’m gonna, inadvertently, mind you, kill you, you go all kung fu grip on my neck.”

Cain swallowed, slowly standing up and brushing himself off, Dean’s gun still trained on him. “Being supernaturally erased was not a part of my plan. I have a flair for the dramatic, I suppose you could say. I’d envisioned more of a hail of bullets scenario. Forgive me if I wanted to go out on my own terms.”

Dean watched him for a moment, thinking. “So, you gonna let me go do this, or do I need to go ahead and just kill you right now?”

Cain laughed at that. “If you’ve got the First Blade on you right now, then I’ll go ahead and do it myself.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Oh, unclench, Winchester. I’m not going to get in your way, you clearly want to get your hands on this book more than I want to keep kicking around this god forsaken Earth.” Cain looked down at the ground, kicking at a loose rock as spoke, calmly, nonchalant. “I am, however, going to let you in on something that I’m fairly sure you haven’t thought about in that pea brain of yours. Although, I’ll admit, I expected it to at least occur to Sam.” 

“What’s that?”

Cain raised his head, making eye contact. The small smirk on his face knocking Dean’s bravado down a notch. 

“What?” Dean asked again.

“The Mark.”

“What about it?”

Cain chuckled. “You’re a part of this, Dean Winchester. That Mark makes you akin to all the supernatural beings in this world. You close that Codex? You die too.”


	20. Chapter 20

It was quiet in the bunker when Dean returned, trying his best to be inconspicuous as he slinked in from the garage. He stopped in a bathroom to wash his hands, splash some water on his weary face. He stared at himself in the mirror for a moment, rubbing at a small cut on his eyebrow to remove the dried blood there. He needed to talk to Sam about his meeting with Cain, but he didn’t want to do it now. Now, he wanted sleep. 

He had just about cleared the door to his room, his hand on the knob to pull it closed, when Cora appeared at the end of the hall.

“Hey. Asshole.”

Dean clenched his jaw, not turning around, one hand clutching the doorframe. “I’m really not in the mood for pleasantries right now.”

“Yeah, whatever, I don’t even care. What the hell, man? You couldn’t stick around for five minutes to make sure your friends okay?” She stabbed a finger into his bicep. He glanced down at it, then raised his eyes to hers.

“What are you talking about?”

Cora gave an overdramatic sigh, complete with eye roll. “Cas, hello? He’s really bent over this whole Claire thing, and he was asking for you. And I’ll let you take a wild guess as to how much better he felt when we had to tell him that his best friend had decided he had better things to do.”

Dean turned back towards his room, resigning himself to not getting the much needed sleep. “Where is he?” he asked quietly. 

Cora took note of just how exhausted the man looked, and some of her bravado deflated. She reached out to put her hand on his arm, and Dean jolted as if he’d been burned. “Hey…whoa…look. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped on you, ok?” Dean looked at her like she’d grown a second head, and she removed her hand. “He’s in Sam’s room. There’s some religious documentary on. Sam got him correcting things, and he’s been focused on that for a while now.”

A small smile showed up on Dean’s face at that. “Sounds like he’s in good hands, then.” He pointed towards his room and started through the door. 

Cora was chewing her lip, trying to decide if she wanted to open this particular can of worms. She figured she’d kick herself later, but she asked quickly, “Is everything okay?”

Dean stopped, looking down at his feet. 

They stood in silence for a few beats before he finally, quietly, answered “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

Cora raised her eyebrows, placed her hands on her hips, and laughed. “Ok, yeah, I believe that, jackass. I also believe that if I close my eyes and wish real hard, chocolate cake is going to rain from the sky.”

Dean sighed. “I don’t wanna talk about this.”

Cora ducked under the arm that was still leaned up against the doorframe, scooting into his room, and hopped up on the bed, situating herself cross-legged. She looked up at Dean expectantly. 

“Spill.”

So Dean spilled. He explained where he had gone, who he had seen. She already knew about the Mark, and most of the story about Cain, but he delved into the gory details. Exactly what the Mark was capable of, what it had already done to him, and what it was going to do to him if and when they managed to close that Codex. She listened soundlessly, nodding occasionally. When he finished, she stood up and hugged him. He tensed, but as he realized she wasn’t going to let him go, brought his arm up and squeezed her a bit. 

She pulled back, looked up at him, her face serious. “Get some sleep. I’m gonna go tear Cas away from his show. He needs a distraction, and I need a project. We’re gonna find a way to remove that Mark. I promise.”

 

********

Three and a half hours later, Cora had hit a jackpot. After bouncing around different websites, she had found an obscure article about a Theologian in Israel who claimed to have texts dating back to beginning times. Specifically, these texts related to a man named Cain, and what had happened to him after the story most Christian children know. After half a dozen phone calls, Cas had managed to translate the Hebrew into Latin. Cora didn’t understand why he couldn’t just translate it into English, but spells are spells. 

The Latin rolled off of her tongue, spilling softly into the static-charged air of the library. She spoke the words quietly but with purpose, and as the repeated phrase became a chant, a hazy fog began to roll along the floor. Cora glanced up, locking eyes with Cas. He didn’t seem to notice the fog, simply cocked his head to the side and continued to watch her. 

With each repetition, the cloud swirling along the floor crept higher, engulfing their knees, their waists, and as it wrapped around their heads Cora began to doubt what she was doing. Her voice trailed off as she lost sight of the angel across from her. 

“C-Cas?”

Silence.

She bit her lip, searching the bank of white in front of her.

“CAS,” she called again, more urgently.

“I’m not sure trusting a spell from a random man we found on the internet was in our best interest,” came the monotone reply. “Perhaps it would be wise to go over the translation again.”

Cora opened her mouth, intent on retorting that she couldn’t even SEE the spell, when there was a loud CRACK, and everything went dark.

******

“Are you guys ok???” Sam was crouched down over Cas, who was still lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling and blinking. Sam took him by the elbow and gingerly tried to help him up. “Cas, what’s wrong? Can you hear me?”

Cas’ answer came flying out at a speed with which Sam had never heard the angel speak. “Um, yeah, I think so, how’s Caaaaaa…” he trailed off, his hand flying to his throat, a wide-eyed look on his face that Sam would have found comical if he weren’t so concerned. “What the hell?? Why do I sound like Cas???”

Sam gave him a quizzical look, and turned his gaze to Cora, who had stood up and was brushing down the folds of her dress back into place while staring in absolute confusion at her own breasts. 

“Oh you have got to be kidding,” Sam mumbled. He turned back to Cas and asked “Cora?” 

Cas spread his hands in a gesture of “yes, moron!”, and exclaimed “Duh! Did you get hit on the head too?”

Sam took a deep breath, turning to Cora. “Cas?”

The girl tipped her head up, squinting at him, before saying in an oddly flat voice “I think something may have gone wrong.”

“Ya think??” Cora-in-a-trenchcoat groaned miserably. 

“This…Sam, this is uncomfortable. I don’t like being this short,” Cas-in-a-dress stated. “I want to change back now.”

Twelve minutes of arguing over what had gone wrong later, Cas and Cora performed the spell again, and nothing happened. 

Sam was caught somewhere between laughing and crying at every awkward action and phrase that came out of his two friends. 

“Oh noooooo,” Cora-in-a-trenchcoat moaned. She turned her eyes to her counterpart, looking at him meaningfully. She watched as her own face squinted at her in a silent question, then slowly turned her head to look towards the hallway, down which Dean was sleeping soundly in his room. When she turned back, there was a look of understanding gazing back at her.

They both turned to Sam, and at the same time said “We need to fix this before he wakes up.”


	21. Chapter 21

Cora had tried every possible variant of the words in the spell that had swapped her body with that of Cas, to no avail. The two of them sat morosely side by side at the table. Sam had managed, after the two hour mark, to contain his laughter every time one of the pair spoke. After a particularly long session of laughter he had started choking. Cas had finally taken pity on him and gone to get him a glass of water (he walked to the kitchen – if Sam hadn’t laughed so hard, he may have flown there, but…).

Three hours had now passed, and there was nothing to show for it. 

“I just don’t know what went wrong,” Cora groaned.

“I don’t see anything amiss with the text,” Sam offered, “maybe you pronounced something wrong?”

Cora fixed him with a glare, and Sam pointed at her with glee. “There! That’s a look I’m used to seeing on that face!”

Cas narrowed his eyes, slumping down into his chair a little further, and grumbled something that Sam didn’t quite catch.

Cora, however, did. 

“Oh my god, ya big baby,” she said, standing up and awkwardly yanking the trenchcoat down her arms. “Here’s your precious coat.” She threw it at Cas, and he grabbed it like a life preserver. Cora rolled her eyes. 

“It’s mine,” he said quietly, looking to Sam as if he would understand. Sam tried to look anywhere else. 

“Sam, we’ve gotta find something soon, before Dean…” Cora started.

“’Fore Dean what?” a voice yawned from the doorway.

Cas and Cora froze, neither looking at the man that had entered the room. 

“Um, before Dean…freaks out and kills someone?” Sam offered, smiling hugely at his brother.

“Very not funny,” Dean said, side-eyeing the trio. Cora fidgeted uncomfortably. Cas stared straight ahead. “Ok, well…I’m gonna go get some grub…” he said slowly, turning to leave the room. “Fuckin’ weirdos…” they heard as he made his way down the hall. 

Cora heaved a sigh, then chucked a book at Sam’s head.

They were back to searching through the books when Abigail came into the room, immediately stopping. Her eyes wandered around the library for a moment, before she said carefully, “Something’s not right.”

“Yeah, Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum over here,” Sam said without looking up, pointing at the two people across the table from him.

Abigail regarded them for a second, then smiled. “So it seems. I’m not going to ask.” She paused for a beat, then said “I take that back. Yes I am. What did you do?”

Cora explained the situation while Abigail listened intently.

“Why didn’t you just come and get me right away?” she laughed, her blue eyes dancing.

“You mean you can…” Cora said, but before she could finish, Abigail had snapped her fingers, and there was a sound like one of those small popper fireworks that were deemed acceptable for children to play with.

Cora glanced to her right where Cas had been sitting, only to find nothing but a wall. She flung herself around to the left to see Cas, in his rightful form, glaring at her.

“What?” she asked, then immediately rolled her eyes. “Here, take your ratty old coat.”

As Cas slid his arms back into his proper wardrobe, Dean came wandering back through. 

“Hey Sammy, Max just called. Said he got word there’s a ghost tearin’ shit up about 6 miles from here. You in?”

Sam looked at Cora. “You guys gonna be ok for a few hours?”

She nodded. “No more spells until we figure out what happened.”

Sam smiled at her, and turned back to Dean. “I’m game if you are.”

As he stood to leave, Cora grabbed his sleeve. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure,” he said, gesturing to Dean that he’d be along in a minute.

“Look, I’m sure Dean hasn’t mentioned it to you, but we need to find a way to get rid of this Mark. Like now.”

“Go on.”

“He told me…he went to see Cain. And Cain told him that…because of the Mark…when the Codex closes…” she trailed off.

Sam sighed. “I know. I mean I just sort of assumed.”

Cora chewed her lip.

“Look, we’ll be back later tonight, you stay here, you dig up whatever you can that’s helpful. The minute I get back, I’m on full research mode. We got this.” He offered her a smile, and turned to head out the door.

********

The boys had been gone for an hour. Abigail and Cas were engrossed in a game of chess, and Cora was growing restless. She couldn’t look at anymore books, anymore spells, anymore anything. 

She grabbed a light sweater from her room, and stopped on her way out to tell the other two that she was going out for a walk, she’d be back soon. Cas acknowledged her with a wave, not looking up from the board. 

She stepped out into the crisp evening air and took a deep breath. The bunker was nice, and safe, but she had missed being outside for the last few days. As she walked, she ran the spell through her mind. The more she thought about it, the more something seemed to be missing. There just wasn’t enough power to remove such a formidable thing from someone’s soul. 

She kicked at some loose stones, pulling her sweater tighter around her, shivering. She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she almost missed what sounded like rustling wings just behind her. She turned to find herself face to face with a man she didn’t recognize. She opened her mouth, but before any sound could get past her lips, the stranger put his hand on her arm, and they both disappeared. 

********

“For Christ’s sake!” Dean yelled. “Can we not manage to not get kidnapped around here?”

“Calm down, we don’t know for sure that’s what even happened,” Sam chastised him.

“No, you’re right, I suppose she just decided she’d had enough, wandered off back home, on foot, with none of her belongings and no money.” He sneezed. “And left that god forsaken cat. No, that makes total sense, Sammy.”

Sam gave him a pointed look, turning back to Abigail. “She said she was just going for a walk?”

She nodded. “Yes. That was four hours ago. I’ve been trying to reach out, sense her, but I haven’t been successful.”

“That’s not good,” Sam said. 

“No, it isn’t. Although it’s not necessarily bad, either. It just means that, wherever she is, it’s warded.”

Sam nodded, lost in thought, trying to figure out exactly who had taken the witch. 

Dean looked at Cas, who was currently giving a very quizzical look to the wall. He walked a little closer and poked him in the arm. “Hey. What gives?”

Cas didn’t turn to look at him, but answered, “Angels.”

Dean blinked at him. “We have heard on high? In the outfield? Angels what, Cas?”

Cas finally turned his gaze on him. “I can hear them. They took Cora. I think…I think they believe she’s Abigail.”

“Are they stupid?” Dean asked. “They look nothing alike. And wouldn’t they be able to…sense that it’s not her? Or something?

“No, they’re highly intelligent. And for over a year Abigail was able to avoid them by keeping her true self hidden. Maybe they think this is just another disguise.”

“Can we get her back?” Sam asked.

“Of course we can,” Abigail replied, quietly. “We give them what they really want.”

Sam looked at her sadly. “You would do that?”

She smiled, raising her eyebrows. “Of course I would. My freedom is not more important than a young woman’s life. Although I don’t doubt they would simply return her once they have figured out, surprise, she’s not me. And besides, I believe the past year has been a testament that I don’t need to be locked up anymore. They should listen to reason. But just in case…Castiel? You’ll come with me?”


	22. Chapter 22

Once Cas had discerned from angel chatter that Cora hadn’t been taken to Heaven, but to a warehouse on the other side of town, the plan came together. Sam had compiled a list of all the possible locations from the internet, and while Dean and Cas searched half of them, he and Abigail would take the other half. Whoever found her first would call the other, and the other team would come to them. 

It took surprisingly little time to find her. The second building that Dean and Cas checked turned out to be the jackpot, and when Sam and Abigail arrived, it was decided they would all go in together. 

Sam held the door open, letting Abigail and Cas through, but before he and Dean could follow, the door slammed shut. Dean pounded on it, yelling. Sam put his hand on his brother’s shoulder, trying to calm him. 

“Hey, hey, cool it. She’s in there, Cas is there, he can do way more than we can anyway. Just chill.”

Dean clenched his jaw and paced. 

On the other side of the door, Abigail and Cas found themselves face to face with no less than a dozen angels. One of them was holding Cora’s bound arms. She was gagged, but still trying to talk, clearly agitated. Cas gave her a questioning look, unable to understand her.

“Castiel, what are you doing here?” one of them asked, pulling Cas’ attention.

“I’m here to get my friend. She’s not who you are you looking for.”

“No, but I see you’ve brought who I’m looking for,” a familiar voice drawled from behind him. 

“Crowley,” Cas growled, turning quickly and drawing his blade. 

“Nuh uh uh,” the demon sing-songed, sending the blade flying with a flick of his hand. “Abigail, I presume?”

Abigail glared at him, standing completely still. After a moment, her eyebrows drew together in concentration, and slowly a look of understanding crossed her features. 

“Trying to smite me?” Crowley asked cheerfully. “Good luck with that. You have no power here.” He gestured around the empty space to the sigils drawn carefully over the walls. He turned back to Cas. “You seem so surprised, Castiel. You should know by now that I have all makes and models on my payroll. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to enjoy this bit of entertainment, and then I’ll be taking my prize, and heading off to find my Codex. Kill them,” he ordered the angels on the other side of the room. 

Cora chose that moment to throw her head back into the face of the angel holding her arms, and scrubbed her face on her shoulder to remove the gag. She screamed, running for Cas. 

Outside, Dean wasted no time when her scream reached him. He positioned Sam under a window. As his younger brother boosted him up, he knocked the glass out with the butt of his gun, and dove through. He landed hard on his side, ignoring the cuts along his arms, and searched the room. His eyes landed on Cas, and cowering behind him, Cora. They were surrounded, but now their attention was on him.

“Hey, heh, how’s it goin?” he asked sheepishly, grinning for a second then immediately firing a round into the angel nearest to him. 

“You know that can’t hurt us, right?” it said, almost disgusted. 

“Nope, but it gave me time to do this,” he replied, tossing Cas’ blade back to him. He had no sooner released it when one of the other angels was suddenly behind him, shoving him to the floor, a blade at his throat. Dean pulled his knees up, pressing his feet against the angels legs, and shoved. To his surprise, it flailed backwards, dropping the weapon.

“It’s the warding!” Cas shouted. “They’re powerless, they’ve only got their blades!”

Cas nodded his head towards the door as he stabbed two angels in quick succession. 

“Son of a bitch,” Dean grumbled as his eyes landed on Crowley, gripping Abigail by the arm. He turned back, shouting at Cas while motioning towards Abigail. “Hey! Get her!”  
Cas headed off to do just that. 

“Dean!” The sound of his name being screamed drew his attention back to Cora. An angel in a vessel that could have played Defensive End for the Patriots had ahold of her, angel blade pressed to her neck, as he slowly walked backwards away from the ruckus. 

Dean reached down, grabbing the blade from the angel that had jumped him. As he stood up, he stabbed backwards, taking the angel out with his own weapon. There were four of them between him and Cora. He took a deep breath, and dove in.

Cas had reached Crowley, and was staring him down. 

“As fun as this has been,” the demon said, “I do believe it’s time for me to go.”

He took a step back, directly into the blade of a knife. “I don’t think so,” Sam said, having managed to get himself through the window unnoticed while the angels were occupied with Dean and Cas.

“This is not the end of this,” Crowley growled, and disappeared. 

Sam grabbed Cas’ blade from him, and took off to help Dean.

It was over quickly, after that point. The final two angels surrendered. Dean killed them anyway. “They’ll just run back to Crowley,” he had reasoned. No one argued. 

Cora was sitting on a pile of pallets outside, shaking. Cas had healed the small cut on her neck from the blade that had been pressed tight. She had thanked him quietly, then burst into tears. Cas, not knowing what to do, had stood next to her awkwardly, waiting for Sam and Dean to come out so they could all head back to the bunker together. 

By the time the brothers stepped out into the sunshine to join the others, Cora’s tears had faded to sniffles, and she seemed to be holding up a little better. 

As Sam went to talk to Cas, Dean came up and sat beside Cora. “You know, I’d have rescued you a lot sooner, but I didn’t know you were yellin’ for me.”

She turned to glare at him. “That wimpy powerless angel hit you so hard you forgot your own name?”

He smiled at her.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “Next time I’ll just yell ‘Hey, Fuckface!’ or something.”

He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. “Yeah, that should do it.”

******

When they returned to the bunker, Cora disappeared into her room without a word. 

Abigail pulled Sam aside and asked to speak to him. 

When they were alone in the kitchen, she turned to him and said “I know that this entire thing was a trap. They knew that I’d never let something happen to her in my place. But it got me thinking. Maybe I should go back. My father is long gone, and there’s no one keeping the wheels straight right now.”

Sam nodded. “Might not be a bad idea.”

“Also, I’m pretty sure I know how to fix whatever Metatron did to Heaven. Honestly, I’m surprised no one’s tried it yet.” She paused. “I would need to take Cas with me. Temporarily, of course.”

“We should be alright, for a couple of days, at least. But if today made one thing abundantly clear, it’s that we can’t waste any more time. We need to get to the Codex, and close it. Soon.”

She nodded once, then handed Sam a small vial. “Here, my blood. Take it, in case something happens and I can’t come back.”

Sam took it from her, staring down at it. There was nothing standing in the way of them closing the Codex and putting monsters to bed forever. Nothing except Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost there! Only a few chapters left!


	23. Chapter 23

Sam was hovering just outside the Map room. He hadn’t intended to eavesdrop, but in his attempt to find out if he’d be interrupting a private conversation by entering the room, he had inadvertently overheard something interesting, and damned if he didn’t want to hear the rest of it.

“…and I can’t help it. I don’t want to be angry. I just am. This Mark is all but running my brain these days. And you have no idea how hard it is just to…function,” Dean was saying.

“I understand,” Cora answered quietly. “I get it. I just think that if you talk to him, explain it to him, then maybe…It’s not gonna stop it from happening, but maybe it’d make you feel a little better about the whole thing if you just told Sam what was going on.”

Sam peered about the corner. Dean and Cora were sitting cross-legged on the floor, face to face, a small bowl between them into which the latter was tossing different ingredients. The fingers of Dean’s left hand were lightly entangled in the fingers of her right. His other hand was toying absentmindedly with the hem of her skirt that flowed out around her. 

“He’s already worried enough. About this Codex. And getting the Mark removed. He doesn’t need the added bullshit of me falling apart.”

Sam pulled back into the hallway, closing his eyes and resting his head back against the wall. Dean was right. He didn’t need this. But he had known. It was fairly obvious that the Mark was getting stronger. 

“There. Done,” he heard Cora state proudly. 

“You sure this is gonna help?” Dean asked, sounding doubtful.

“It should. It’s your basic diminishing charm. Just keep it on, it should help repress some of the power.”

There was the sound of shuffling as they stood up, and Sam decided this was as good a time as any to make his presence known. He shuffled his feet a little bit, then walked into the room, hoping like hell he didn’t look like he’d just been standing outside of it for the past ten minutes.

“Oh, hey guys,” he said cheerfully.

Dean dropped Cora’s hand so fast it could have been hot coals. 

“Hey…hey Sam. What’s going on?” Cora stuttered, flustered. 

“Just checking on a few things before we leave for Minnesota.” He glanced at Dean and watched as he tucked a chain with a small amulet under his shirt. “It’s looking like we can leave tomorrow.”

Dean swallowed, then nodded. “I should go pack.” He left the room.

Cora was packing her things up. “Sam, you know I haven’t made any progress on what went wrong with that spell.”

“I know. Which is why we’re going to spend tonight figuring it out. There’s no other option.”

She smiled up at him sadly, and headed back to her room. 

*******

Hours (that seemed like days) later, the three of them were gathered in the library, going over the same books for the fourth time in search of a solution to their problem, when Cas and Abigail came clamoring into the room. 

“Well we have at least one good thing under our belt!” Abigail exclaimed. 

Their audience looked up expectantly. She grinned at them. 

“Heaven. It’s open. Unlocked. Restored.” She sighed happily. “And mine.”

“That’s great!” Sam said. “But…how?”

“Well, it occurred to me. How do you reverse most spells?”

Sam’s eyes slowly widened. “Dude,” he punched Dean in the arm, “how did we not think of that??”

“Of what? And ouch,” Dean countered, punching him back.

Sam shoved him, then answered, “You kill the witch.”

Cora coughed. 

“Not you,” Sam and Dean responded quickly. She grinned happily. 

Abigail continued, “So, after I made my offer to the angels that are attempting to run things, and they accepted, Cas and I paid a visit to Metatron. And I let Cas have some retribution.”

Cas smiled softly, having finally been able to redeem himself a little. 

Dean stood up, clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Glad you finally got a little payback, man.” Cas put his hand over Dean’s, and the hunters eyes went a little glassy for a second. He blinked a couple of times, then yawned, turned to the others and said, “Big day tomorrow. I’m gonna hit the sack.” 

Cas watched him as he walked down the hall towards his room.

“Sam,” Abigail said, “would you do me a favor? The laptop you gave me to use isn’t working properly, I was hoping to do some more spell research tonight. Would you help me fix it?”

She took his arm, and as she guided him out the door, turned back to Cas and nodded. 

As soon as he knew that they were far enough away, he turned anxiously towards Cora.

“Now that they’re gone, there’s something you need to know. I found out what’s wrong with the spell.”

********

“He’ll never let that happen,” Cora stated miserably, looking crestfallen.

“And that is precisely why we will not be telling him,” Cas replied. 

“He’ll be so pissed,” Cora said softly. 

“Yes, and we can deal with that after the Codex is closed and Dean isn’t dead,” Cas replied, almost angrily. “This isn’t a discussion. I am informing you of the way this is going to go.”

“Ok, I guess I can get on board with not telling Dean, but why not Sam?”

“I believe you would call that a ‘safety net’,” Cas answered. “We cannot risk him mentioning anything to his brother.”

Cora sighed.

“I need to know you understand what needs to happen, Cora.”

She took a deep breath and nodded. 

******

It was six in the morning when Sam’s alarm went off, jarring him out of sleep. He scrubbed a hand down his face, grabbing some clean clothes on his way out the door to go shower. He was just about to turn to go down the hall when he heard a door behind him open. He knew from the distance of the sound it was Dean’s. He turned, expecting to greet his brother, but was instead greeted by the sight of a bed-headed Cora, wearing a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, her hands full of clothes that seemed much more her style, quietly closing the door. She caught sight of Sam, nearly jumped out of her skin, her face turning bright red. 

“I was…I just…I…I…my clothes were in there,” she stammered. 

Sam fought the laugh. “Your…clothes…were in Dean’s room.”

“Um…yup. Look at that, sure were,” she said, holding them up.

“Cora.”

She looked up at him, nearly frantic, her face even redder.

“It’s fine,” Sam said. “No judging.”

She heaved a sigh. “I just…with everything. If it doesn’t work, I didn’t want to…”

Sam put his hand on her shoulder. “I know.”

She smiled sadly at him, and headed off down the hall to her own room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I sort of glossed over re-opening Heaven, and just killed Metatron to do it, but...It wasn't a key point in my story, and I just wanted it re-opened, so, I went the easy-peasy way.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! Almost to the end!

They were a motley bunch, standing in the kitchen. Abigail and Sam going over the details of who was doing what when, Cora, whose eyes were closed, and Dean sharing a quiet moment by the door, and Cas, standing between them all, watching both pairs interacting. 

“Alright,” Sam said, putting a hand on Abigail’s shoulder. “If we’re gonna do this, we need to get going.” He glanced towards the door in time to see Dean kiss Cora softly, once on the lips, and again, lingering, on her forehead. Dean nodded in his direction, walked over to him, and when Abigail placed her hand on his arm, the three of them disappeared. 

Cas walked over to Cora, her eyes still closed, put his arm around her shoulders, and guided her to the library to wait. 

******

Sam and Dean stood in the middle of a dark cavern in the center of a park in Northern Minnesota. The water rushing behind them was loud, obscuring all other sounds.   
To make things easier, Abigail had taken them there. The cave was warded to any sort of supernatural powers, so she had taken them to a spot about a mile away, and they had hiked the rest of the way. Sam had collected the blood they needed from her, and she had returned to the bunker, where Cas and Cora were awaiting her return so they could begin their respective spell. 

Sam had just added the final ingredient to the bowl when a voice thundered through the cavern. He turned to see Cain, shaking water out of his hair. He turned a frantic eye to Dean, who shouted to him. “Keep going! I’ll take care of this!”

Sam turned his attention back to the spell, dipping his fingers into the bowl and using them to draw the symbols on the wall as he recited the Latin. 

“How’d you find us?” Dean demanded, voice loud to be heard over the falls. 

“I know more things than you could ever hope to know,” Cain answered. 

They circled each other slowly, cautiously. 

Cain inclined his head towards the Mark, barely visible under Dean’s rolled up sleeve. “You sure you wanna do this?”

“Yeah. We got some people working on this. So I’m pretty sure.”

Dean glanced over to where his brother stood, painting symbols. They were beginning to glow. He tried to stall some more.

“Cain, you gotta give it up. You know this has to happen.”

Cain squinted at him. “No, the way I see things, this world under Crowley’s rule is a hell of a lot better for me than the way it is now. So I think I’m gonna do everything I can to keep you and your brother away from that book.”

Dean gave him a bring it on motion with his hands, and the two men collided. Cain knocked him to the ground, slamming his fist into Dean’s face. 

Sam turned quickly when he saw them out of the corner of his eye, clenched his jaw, and continued the spell. Suddenly the wall in front of him disappeared, and he stepped through to a small room. He turned back, but the wall had reappeared. He took a slow, steadying breath, and headed to the low table in the center of the room. 

*******

In the library of the bunker, the only sound was the steady, rhythmic chanting coming from Cas and Cora. Abigail was sitting at the next table, hands folded, head resting on them, almost in prayer. There was a swirl of sky blue smoke starting to travel upwards out of the bowl of ingredients on the table. Cora locked eyes with Cas, renewed vigor in her chanting as she watched the swirling colors. 

*******

Inside the cavern, the scuffle continued. Dean managed to land a few blows, but overall, Cain was winning. When he was able to scoot away for a minute, Cain laughed at him. 

“Did you really think you’d win this, Dean?” he said, spitting blood to the side, pulling a long knife from his jacket.

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, working his jaw in an attempt to numb some of the pain. He slowly stood up, taking a deep breath. 

“I don’t have to win. I just have to keep you occupied.”

*******

On the other side of the wall, Sam was standing over the Codex. He stared down at it in awe. They were finally here. The chance to end it all was just under his fingertips. He flipped through a few pages, finding what he could count without help from the internet as at least 5 different languages, detailed drawings, some of them moving. He rubbed a page between his fingers, closing his eyes. He was ready.

*******

“You, uh, you know that ain’t gonna kill me, right?” Dean asked, nodding his head at the knife in Cain’s hand.

“Nope. But it’s gonna slow you down,” came the response. “And hurt like hell.”

Dean dodged as Cain came in close, just about out of the way, when he felt a searing pain radiating through his body. He doubled over, clutching his arms around himself, eyes scrunched closed. As the pain lessened to more of a throbbing ache, he opened his eyes to find Cain had vanished. He looked down at his arm, a small smile playing across his face at the smooth expanse of skin, unblemished. He closed his eyes again, sighed, and slid down the wall.


	25. Chapter 25

Sam turned around, noticing that the room was now a part of the cavern. The charade of magic was gone, all wards erased. 

“Dean!” he shouted, frantically searching the dark cavern. He could hardly hear over the rushing water from the falls. “DEAN!”

He turned to go back towards the entrance, thinking maybe the fight had gotten outside, and as he did so his foot made contact with something solid on the ground. A grunt let him know he had found his brother.

“Dean,” he breathed, kneeling down to help him up. 

“No, ‘m good here,” Dean mumbled. He held his right arm up as much as he could, showing a forearm devoid of any markings. “’S gone, Sammy. They did it.”

Sam’s eyes widened, and he gripped Dean’s arm. “So did we. It’s closed, the Codex. It’s all over.”

Dean sighed, a small smile playing on his lips. “Awesome.”

“Give me your hand, I’ll help you up.”

Dean grunted again as Sam tried to pry his other arm away from his stomach, swatting at him with his right hand.

“Come on, we need to get you out of here,” Sam insisted.

Dean shook his head. “’M gonna stay right here. And you’re gonna listen to me for a minute.”

Sam looked down at where his brother’s arm was clutched across his middle, and in the dim light flitting through the falling water outside finally noticed the blood pooling, running down his arm and onto the floor. He paled.

“My arm is the only thing keeping my insides from being on the outside right now, so if you don’t mind, I’m gonna keep it where it is, mm’kay?” He offered Sam a weak smile, then continued. “And I’m ok with that, Sammy. I am. Being a hunter is the only thing I was ever truly good at. And that’s done. And I’m ok with that, too.” His voice grew weaker as he went on, Sam leaning in closer to hear it at all. “So here’s what you’re gonna do, Sam. You’re gonna take that Codex, and you’re gonna put it where no one is ever gonna find it. And you’re gonna do for me the one thing I could never seem to do for you.” His breath was coming in shudders now. Sam reached out and rested his hand on Dean’s shoulder, trying to offer whatever comfort he could, and fighting the urge to interrupt. “You’re gonna let me go, Sammy.” 

“Dean.” Tears began to run down his face, and he wiped at them halfheartedly. 

“No, Sam. I mean it. I’m tired, man.” Dean was all but mumbling now. “And truth be told, I shoulda left this life years ago. But doing my job kept me going. Saving people, making the world safer one monster at a time. I had a purpose. That purpose is gone. I’m ready. There’s no place for Dean Winchester in a world with no monsters,” he smiled ruefully. “Please, Sammy. Let me go.”

Sam closed his eyes, tears flowing in earnest, trying not to choke. He gave a small nod. 

“Tell Cora…” Dean trailed off, making a small motion with his free hand. “…you know.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sam answered thickly, his throat constricting. “I’ll make sure she’s ok.”

“Thank you,” Dean whispered, letting his head fall back against the wall. He took one last breath that left him on a sigh, and went still.

“Dean?” It was barely a whisper, a sound that should have come out of a scared little boy. 

No one answered.

“Cas, I need you,” he managed to get out.

No one answered.

“CAS.”

Silence.

“Cas, please!”

He laid his head down in his brother’s bloody lap, and cried.

*******

Sam had no idea how much time had passed. He was lying on the ground next to his brother, and it was cold. He had no urge to move, no will to get up, get out of the dank cavern and go home. 

“Cas,” he whispered brokenly, to no avail. 

He was quiet for a moment, then tried again. “Abigail.”

Almost immediately, a warm light filled the space. He slowly rolled his head to the side, and looked up into her face. He stared at her blankly for a few moments, then closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, he was lying on the floor of the library in the bunker. 

“Sam!” Cora came running over to him, helping him sit up. “Are you alright? Did it work?!”

He didn’t answer her, but turned to Cas. 

“I called you,” he stated simply. “You didn’t come.”

“I know, Sam, I am sorry. Circumstances…” The angel’s voice slowly faded as he realized Dean wasn’t there. “Where is Dean? Did the spell not work properly?”

Sam swallowed, unsure of the words he should choose, but they weren’t needed as Abigail spoke up. “Your spell worked. The Mark is gone.”

“And Dean?” Cas’ eyes bored into Sam’s, the worry there evident, and growing.

Sam cast his eyes downward, an almost imperceptible shake of his head more than enough for Cas to understand. He seemed to consider this for a moment, then quietly turned and left the room. 

Abigail turned to Sam, settling her hand gently on his arm. “His body is outside, there’s a clearing in the woods not far from here. If you want me to ready everything, I can. If you’d rather do these things yourself, we can leave you to do so.”

Sam took a large breath, seeming to snap out of a trance. “Thank you. I…go ahead. I want to talk to Cora.”

Abigail nodded, and headed outside. 

*******

The three of them made an odd assembly. Cas, standing stoic and rigid, his arms at his sides. Cora, next to him, hunched slightly with her arms clutching her elbows. And Sam, sitting on the ground, his long legs drawn up to his chest, chin resting on his knee. 

The fire had been burning for almost an hour, and none of them had spoken. Abigail had prepared the pyre, and the body, before leaving them to their grief, with the promise that she would be nearby. 

“You are cold,” Cas said matter-of-factly, noticing Cora’s shivering. “You should go in.”

She didn’t appear to have heard him, but ten minutes later she turned and slowly walked back down the trail that led to the bunker. 

Cas moved closer to Sam, and sat down. 

They sat in silence for a long time, the fire popping. 

“I did not come when you called,” Cas said after a time. Sam stared straight ahead. “The spell…we figured out what we were doing wrong. We were missing an ingredient.”

Sam turned to look at him for the first time since Cas had left the library upon learning of his friend’s death. 

“What was it?” he asked quietly. 

Cas cast his eyes back to the fire before answering. “My grace.”

They were silent again for a few minutes.

“You worked so hard to get it back,” Sam finally replied. 

Cas nodded. “It was a sacrifice I was more than willing to make. I have not always done what would be considered the right thing, Sam. But there was no question here. Knowing that Dean Winchester is in Heaven, where he belongs, is knowing that I finally managed to do the right thing. The good thing. And some day, when this body gives out, and my life comes to an end, we will see each other again.” He smiled sadly. 

Sam turned his eyes back to the flames. 

Cas placed his hand on his shoulder for a moment, then stood to leave. He stopped at the edge of the clearing.

“You did a good thing, Sam. The world is safe because of you.”

He walked away, missing Sams’ reply. 

“Him. It’s safe because of him.”


	26. Chapter 26

The Impala sat in the garage next to the cars that had been in the bunker when the Winchesters had found it three years ago. She fit right alongside the others, vehicles that men would fawn over and call “classics”, “mint condition”. They hadn’t left their home in over 40 years. They shone brightly in the overhead fluorescent lights. The dust they had accumulated during their long hibernation had been kept away in the last few years by the loving hand of Dean. Sure, they weren’t Baby. But they had been someone’s Baby, he had reasoned. Sam turned away from the shining black car that had been home to him so many times over the last decade of his life. 

He blinked back nostalgia, turned off the light, and made his way back to the library where his duffel sat waiting for him. He paused as he passed the room that had belonged to his brother. He stared straight ahead, fighting the urge to open the door, knowing what he’d find wouldn’t do anything for him in the long run. The family photos, the flannels thrown haphazardly about, yet the bed meticulously made. None of that mattered anymore. He had made as much peace with his brother’s death as he was going to make during the previous night and into the morning, watching the pyre settle down to coals, and eventually smoking ash. He closed his eyes, swallowed hard, and kept walking until he reached the library. 

His eyes landed on his dad’s journal, sitting on the table amidst a jumble of old lore books and Men of Letters documents. He ran his fingers over the well-worn leather, casting one last look around the room. Memories flew at him, but he closed his eyes and fought them off. If he let them in, the grief would overtake him, and he’d wind up useless on the floor, unable to drag himself back up to do what he needed to. 

His bag sat on the floor by his feet. On top of it lay the Codex. He picked it up, and gently set it on the table next to the other lore books, resting his hand on the cover for a moment. 

A few minutes later he was standing in the bright sunshine outside, the door locked behind him. He slipped the key into his pocket, hefted his bag onto his shoulder, and headed off down a slightly worn trail through the woods. It was a short fifteen minute walk to the lake. It was blissfully calm here. No wind rustled through the trees, and the water sat still and quiet. But Sam didn’t waste time gazing at the scenery. He simply pulled the key from his jacket, tossed it once in his hand. He clenched his jaw, reared back, and threw it as far as he could into the water. It made a pathetically small splashing noise, and all too quickly the lake was glass-calm again. No sign it had even been disturbed. 

Halfway through his trek back through the woods, his phone buzzed. He reached into his pocket to retrieve it, and was greeted by an image of Cas, grinning from ear to ear. Sam gave a soft half smile at the memory of the former angel and his excitement over the fact that he could set pictures of his friends to show up whenever they called him, and vice versa. It had been hours since Abigail had said her goodbyes and left for Heaven, and Cas and Cora had set off for Michigan, where a friend of the latter had offered them a place to stay for a while. Sam had shut the trunk of the small blue compact, and amidst the hugs and smiles had said politely “I’ll give you a call as soon as I’m on the road”. He steeled himself one last time, and dropped the phone to the leaf-strewn ground as he left the woods. 

On the 45 minute walk to the bus station, Sam let his mind wander anywhere but to Dean. He allowed the warming afternoon air clear his head as he contemplated his future, what he would do, where he would go. In truth, the answer was whatever and wherever he wanted. He had spent the past ten years of his life with monsters and evil dictating his fate, but now he was free to make whatever choice he wished. And he was damned proud of that. Proud of what he and his brother had accomplished, with the help of a few friends. Hell was closed up tight, the monsters gone. He never had to hunt again. 

Which brought his train of thought back to the beginning: what was he going to do?

He didn’t know the answer to that question, but he knew where to start as he walked up to the bus station counter and asked for a one way ticket to California.


	27. Epilogue

9 years later…

“Uncle Cas! Uncle Caaaaaaaas!”

Castiel took his glasses off and set them on the table next to the stack of term papers he had been grading. He wasn’t sure how a man with no documented education had managed to procure a position as a Professor of Theology, but when Hope College had called him out of the blue 8 years ago and proclaimed that he came “highly recommended”, he was quite certain that Abigail was completely responsible. 

“Uncle Cas! I got another one!”

He smiled, and picked up the term papers to move them to a more secure location in anticipation of the whirlwind headed his way. He had no sooner closed them safely inside his briefcase when a breathless 8 year old came screaming into the room, a large box balanced on his scrawny arms. His bright-eyed and freckled face beamed up at him as he held the package out for inspection.

As usual, it came with no return address, no sign of who had sent it, the only difference being the lack of a plethora of international postmarks that indicated its extensive travels to arrive at their doorstop in the small town of Holland, Michigan. Packages like this one had been arriving every few months for as long as the boy could remember. They came filled with books on art and exotic cultures from around the globe, photographs of places that seemed to beautiful to be real, and the occasional treat or toy that a little boy his age might enjoy from whatever region that particular shipment had begun its journey to him. A thrill coursed through him as he gingerly placed the latest arrival on the table.

“Can we open it now? Please please please?”

Cas gave the youngster a reproachful look. “I think it might be wise to wait until your mother returns, Jacob.”

“But she won’t be home for hours,” he whined. 

“That’s not true. She’ll be home in twenty minutes,” Cas smiled, resting his hand on top of the boy’s head. His chest contracted in a pained memory as green eyes rolled, and Jake plopped himself down in a chair to wait. 

“Better be,” he grumbled. 

Twenty-two and a half minutes later, Cas had lost that battle. The two of them sat at the table, carefully removing the contents of the package. This one held a book about The Great Wall, an intricately carved pair of chopsticks, and pictures of mist covered mountains. Jake cautiously leafed through the pages of the book, gazing at the photos of a land far from anything he’d ever known.

“There’s big words in here. Will you read it to me?”

“Sure. What do you say we spend the weekend exploring China? I’m sure I can find a recipe for something authentic…”

“No offense, Uncle Cas, but your cooking?” he said, a pained expression crossing his face. 

“Take out?”

A high-five was exchanged, and as Jake collected his new treasures into a neat pile, Cas broke down the box, sliding it gently behind the small table that rested under the phone on the wall. Later that night, it would go into a large box at the back of the walk-in closet of the master bedroom, in which rested all of the boxes the other packages had arrived in. 

The back door opened, spilling Coraline into the kitchen. As Cas headed out to the car to bring in the rest of the groceries, Jake buzzed excitedly around his mom while she prepped dinner. She smiled as she worked, listening as the boy rambled animatedly about the things he had seen in his short perusal of the items in the latest parcel.

“…and you should see this wall, Mom, I mean, it’s like, the biggest wall ever.”

“Yes, I’m sure it is, but right now you need to go wash up for dinner.”

“If I go wash up and do it right now with no complaining does that mean I…” 

“Yes, Jacob. If you go right now with no complaining? There will be pie.”

He was already halfway down the hall, and the “YES!” drifted behind him as he darted into the bathroom. Cora shook her head, laughing to herself as she tossed potatoes into a pot of boiling water. She reached down to dry her hands on a towel, glanced out the window, and froze. 

It had been nine years since she’d seen the man who stood across the street, down a few houses, close to the corner. Even half-hidden in the shadow of the giant oak tree in the Vickerson’s yard, she knew him immediately. His hair was still shaggy, but shorter, more manageable. As she caught his gaze, he didn’t look guilty, or caught off guard. She knew that if he hadn’t wanted to be seen, she wouldn’t have seen him. She wanted to wave him over, invite him in, find out how he was doing. She wanted to know where he’d been. But then, she knew where he’d been. She could trace his footsteps through the world by opening a box buried in her closet. 

What she wanted to do more than anything was introduce him to his nephew. She wanted Jake to know him, to hear him tell the stories about the boy’s dad that she didn’t know, stories she couldn’t tell right. She wondered if his face would light up when he was greeted at the door with a shout of “Uncle Sammy’s here!”, and if the subsequent hug would manage to knock even him off balance a bit. 

She wondered and wanted all of these things, but did none of them. She just took a steadying breath, and offered a sad smile in his direction. He seemed to sigh, and with a small nod, tucked his hands into his jacket pockets, turned and walked down the street and out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. And a special thank you to those of you that left kudos or comments. It means a lot to me that someone out there actually likes the drivel that pours out of my brain.


End file.
